


YULETIDE TALES 2003: "THE TW(ELF) DAYS OF YULE"

by erestor



Series: YULETIDE TALES [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Drama, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erestor/pseuds/erestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DAY 1: "Three Brothers and a Yule Tree"

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"'t was the first night of Yule and all through the wood  
cursing was heard from where the Yule tree stood"**

 

"No! No! Further right! Right I said, not left! Yes, a little more! Yes! No! Further down! Further down – yes! That is the perfect place!"

Rúmil sighed. For an hour already Haldir had been directing him and Orophin around. The youngest of the three brothers had declared early on in the preparations that he knew best how to decorate a Yule tree, so he was supervising his brothers, barking commands, and by now, their patience was wearing thin.

"One more 'further down', and by Elbereth, I shall drown him in the punch!" Orophin hissed between clenched teeth, and Rúmil snickered.

"This I would love to see – as a matter of fact, I would even pay you for doing it!"

Orophin rolled his eyes, and fixed the red bauble to the branch of the spruce.

The huge, century-old tree was growing in the center of the market square in Rivendell, and every year, another realm had the honour of decorating it. Last year, it had been the Mirkwood Elves, under the direction of Prince Legolas, and the result had been a nightmare in pink, silver and candles which prompted Gimli, who had been guest of honour, to offer Legolas a free hanging by the means of a tinsel garland. This led to a short, heated argument which ended in two pink ribbons for Gimli's beard.

Elves, Gimli decided, were just no fun to insult.

Haldir, as usual, had promised Lady Galadriel to do Lothlórien all honour, so he had designated the task of decorating the tree to his brothers, mainly because no other warrior in Lothlórien was willing to suffer through two days of nagging Haldir. So it happened that Rúmil and Orophin sat in the tree, placing stars and baubles here and there, while Haldir, snugly wrapped in a warm blanket, sat in a chair and gave directions, occasionally sipping on a glass of warm, spiced Miruvor.

"Do not fall asleep up there," Haldir said, "there is still a lot of work to do; there will be time for idle chatter later on."

Orophin turned around, swaying a little and clinging to the tree, which trembled dangerously under his weight.

"Haldir, dear sweet brother of mine," he began, narrowing his eyes, "mortals tend to put an Elf on the top of their Yule tree – do not force me to start this tradition here in Rivendell as well!"

Haldir, who knew better than challenge Orophin when he was in a cranky mood, quickly put his glass aside.

"I was merely trying to encourage you, dear brother," he said, giving the two grumpy Elves in the tree his sweetest smile.

Orophin grumbled something and returned to his task, and Rúmil grinned.

"And I would pay even more to see this, Orophin!"

" I heard that!" Haldir called, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at his brothers.

"Congratulations on your good hearing!" Rúmil quipped, quickly gathering some of the snow which covered the spruce's branches and making a snowball.

"Here is your prize!"

With that, he threw the snowball with the same accuracy as he fired arrows, and Haldir, who had just opened his mouth to give a snarky reply, got hit right in the face, and was left retching and coughing snow.

"Ai! Ai! Bull's Eye!" Rúmil cheered, throwing his arms up in victory, which was, of course, a very dumb idea, for he dropped like a stone and landed on a snowdrift, disappearing into it and emerging only later, sniffling and spitting snow to the right and the left. Haldir danced around him in glee, singing "Rúmil, the snow Elf", a traditional Lothlórien Yuletide song.

"Ha! Serves you right! No bad deed shall go unpunished!" he howled, and Orophin, who had watched the scene, shook his head.

Sometimes, it would have been nice to be an only child.

* * *

**"The first day is over,  
** but we promise you,  
After one night of sleeping  
You can read 'bout day two..." 


	2. DAY 2: "Cookies and Cows"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"'t was the second night of Yule, the kitchen was buzzing  
the child made a mess, the advisor was fussing"**

"I only have one question, Glorfindel," Erestor asked, picking up one of the cookies from the tray and inspecting it with curiosity.

"No, I will not look after Arwen's children. I am not qualified," the warrior with the golden hair grumbled, as he helped Estorel, his little son, to press the cookie cutters down into the sweet dough. Estorel was covered from head to toe in flour, sugar and other substances, which did not dim his enthusiasm in the least; if anything, being all dirty and sticky seemed to please him.

"That was not what I was about to ask, Fin," Erestor said, dusting some flour off Estorel's tunic, "though, as you have successfully fought Balrogs and Cave Trolls, one should think that you would be qualified to look after a couple of Elflings."

Fin looked up, and rolled his eyes.

"Erestor – I am qualified to fight Balrogs. I have no licence to look after any children but my own. Especially not Arwen's Elflings – to survive an afternoon with those, you must be a Balrog. But to answer your question: this is, as everybody with a working pair of eyes can see, a cookie in the shape of a horse."

"A horse?" Erestor said, and cocked an eyebrow, turning the cookie in his fingers.

"This looks more like a cow to me, to be quite honest".

Fin grinned, and shrugged.

"We shaped the cookie-cutter after your horse, darling."

Erestor snorted, stroked Estorel's hair lovingly and pressed a kiss on his brow. Then he tugged on one of Glorfindel's braids, making the warrior yelp.

"I shall remind you of this next time you wish to borrow my horse for a ride," he said, and made to leave the kitchen, "and direct you to the cow-shed instead."

"No problem," Glorfindel replied, "I am not afraid of cows."

"That is good to hear - just make sure you do not saddle the bull, Fin," Erestor's voice could be heard from the hallways.

The servants giggled.

Fin glared at them, and they quickly turned around, returning to baking, brewing and cooking.

Estorel, encouraged, poked Glorfindel in the side.

"Bull! Bull!" he giggled, and Glorfindel sighed.

"There I agree, penneth," he said, and passed the Elfling a cookie-cutter shaped like a goose, "and now let us make some Galadriel-cookies."

* * *

**"Day two has passed  
Tomorrow you'll see,  
What happened on Yule Day  
number three..."**


	3. DAY 3: "Brothers and Bows"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"'t was the third night of Yule, and his family  
added much to Lord Elrond's misery"**

"Elrohir – why are you wrapping up a brick?" Elladan asked his twin, watching with fascination as his brother tried, with great enthusiasm but no skill, to wrap a heavy, mud-coloured something in a colourful piece of silk. It was a tradition they all held dear – gifts were wrapped in a piece of cloth and tied up with a bow, then put on the mantle of the fireplace. On Yule-morning, their father would hand the gifts out, and everybody got a glass of mulled wine.

"This is not a brick," Elrohir sniffled, clearly insulted, "'t is a vase for Ada's study".

Elladan cocked an eyebrow, and for a moment, the likeness to Lord Elrond was almost ridiculous.

"A vase? Are you sure? Have you any evidence for it?" he joked, returning his attention to his own gift, a pouch of finest tobacco.

"Of course it is a vase – I made it myself! It is a work of art, you peasant," Elrohir snorted, throwing is brother a less than friendly glance.

"Oh now is it, really. Elrohir, how old are you?"

Elrohir looked at his brother suspiciously.

"Same age as you, less two minutes", he grumbled, "why do you ask?"

"If you are my age, you are 3243 years old – which means that you are 3143 years past your majority, am I correct?" Elladan continued, without looking up. The tip of his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and he didn't look a day older than 20.

"Yes, you are correct, but…" Elrohir began, only to be interrupted by his older brother.

"Now if you agree, which seems to be the case, then it means that you are exactly 3143 years too old to make your presents for ada yourself and old enough to start buying them!"

Elrohir pouted.

"You do not know what you are talking about, Elladan. I am an artist. I am a sensitive soul, I do not burden myself with material values."

"In other words: you are broke."

"Yes."

"Ai, what a tragedy," Elladan sighed in mock pity, "ada will get his favourite weed from me and something unspeakable in mud from you. I guess the next time we both ask to borrow his steed, you will be the one who has to walk."

"I have not asked to borrow ada’s steed for centuries," Elrohir snorted, and blew a strand of hair, which hung in his face, to the side, "nor have you."

"Of course not," his older brother replied, looking down at the packet with an innocent smile, "I do not have to ask ada for a steed, I have my own now."

"Elladan!"

The older twin snickered, and elbowed his brother in the side.

"Oh, now do not be such a prude, Elrohir."

"I am not a prude!" Elrohir protested, "I just think it is – unsettling how you speak about your husband."

"Unsettling? Ai – to think that I always considered myself to be the more innocent of us, penneth. But I shall refrain from frivolous speech in future while you are present, so your pure heart may not get corrupted."

Elrohir whacked Elladan up the head, and both broke out in loud laughter.

"But seriously, Elladan – what is it like to be – you know, bonded?" the younger one asked, looking at his brother curiously.

Elladan stopped a moment to fiddle with the cloth, and thought about the question.

"It is difficult to say – it is like walking for a long time and getting lost, and then finding home. I cannot explain, I am afraid – I just feel whole. Yes - Orophin is the other half of my being. It is – beautiful."

Now it was Elladan's turn to blush, and Elrohir smiled.

"So, what will you give your husband-of-thirty-days for Yule? Anything special?"

Elladan grinned, and it was a decidedly wicked grin.

"Yes – I have decided I will place myself under the Yule tree."

Elrohir frowned.

"Yourself? What do you mean by this?"

Another giggle from Elladan.

"It means it will just be me, wearing nothing but a bow."

"Where?"

"What?"

"The bow."

"Ah – well, there."

"There?!?"

"Ai."

"Oh! Unwrapping the present being the present, then?"

Elladan nodded, and both Elves giggled. Then Elrohir passed Elladan a tiny piece of velvet band.

"Here, you will need this."

"What for?" his twin asked, puzzled.

"For the bow – if nothing has changed since you last took a swim, a tiny one should suffice."

* * *

**"The third day has passed  
dear reader and friend  
and now you might wonder  
how the fourth will end..."**


	4. DAY 4: "Room with a view"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"This is the fourth night of Yule, and surely it seems  
that Elrohir is having most pleasant dreams"**

Elrohir lay on his back, hands folded behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. He had done so for many hours already, watching the patterns of the pale moonlight on the carved wooden beams, had counted four times over the books on the top row of the shelf, and still sleep wouldn't come.

All through his life, the twelve days of Yule had been a time of cheerful expectation and excitement for him, save the last two years, which had been darkened by Elladan's grief. So, with Orophin and Gil-galad returned from the Halls of Waiting and everybody happy, he had expected to feel the much-missed and familiar tingle and spark again – but it did not happen.

The truth was that Elrohir felt left out. The Valar knew he was happy for his brother, and for his father, who had laughed more since Gil-galad's return than he had in the last 5 centuries, but he felt strangely cut out of their lives. They all had "someone" – he had not. 'Now that is not true,' he chided himself, 'you have your lovely Mirkwood maiden.'

But Eldanorien had returned home for the festive season, and deep down in his heart Elrohir knew that sooner or later she would return for good – love had turned to friendship, and one day, the call of her home would be stronger than his wish for her to stay.

Elrohir sighed. Being the odd one out was a new experience for him, and not one he enjoyed. Sure, half the court was still at his beck and call, heads turned when he passed by, and he knew that more than one gentle soul sighed at night in longing for him, but this was not what he was looking for. Not any more. The admiration had lost its appeal, the sweet words become shallow, and he dreaded the 12th night which would force him to sit among happy faces and loving couples, with nothing to hold on to but a glass of mulled wine.

Just when Elrohir was about to start enjoying his self-pity, he perked up – there was a noise coming from the window sill. He turned his head, and almost fell out of the bed.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, crawling to the head end of his huge bed, clutching the bed sheets tightly around his midriff.

"You ask me the same question every time our paths cross, child. I would have thought you to be more imaginative."

Námo, the Doomsman of the Valar, known to Men and Elves as Mandos, stifled a yawn, and as always, Elrohir had to admire, though reluctantly, the fluidity of his movements.

"Why are you doing this?" Elrohir asked, a little whiny. "Why do you follow me? Why chase me? What have I done to you that you punish me so?"

"Punish you?" Námo cocked an eyebrow, and sat down at the foot of the bed, stretching out comfortably. Elrohir couldn't help but notice that the Vala didn't seem to weight anything, not a crease showed in the sheets, and, most disconcertingly of all: the Vala didn't cast a shadow.

"Why should I punish you? That is not my duty. I am only observing. That is all I do. I do not interfere, I do not initiate, I only - watch."

The dark Elf stretched out the last word, giving Elrohir a smile, and there was mischief in the dark liquid of his eyes.

"That you do – no doubt." Elrohir grumbled, and pulled the sheets a little further up his body, fighting the heat which spread over his face when he noticed Námo's expression of approval.

"Do you wish me to leave, child?" Nàmo asked.

Elrohir wanted to say "yes, now, right away!", but oddly enough, he shook his head.

"No – yes – no, maybe not."

"Sleep has evaded you for many nights already, child," Nàmo said, "Irmo, the master of dreams, has missed the presence of your spirit in his realm, and so I came to see if anything is amiss."

Elrohir sighed.

"Do you visit every Elf on Arda who is plagued by insomnia, my lord?" he asked, and Námo laughed again, that odd, toneless laughter that Elrohir felt in his soul, though his ears couldn't hear it.

"No, my child – only those Elves who fear death so little they attack me with their bare hands."

The young Elf grew beet red.

"My apologies, my lord – I know that what I did was unforgivable, but…"

"No apologies needed," Nàmo interrupted him, "I found your actions most refreshing, and certainly more entertaining than the reactions I usually encounter. Only two beings have dared to attack Death, one of them being the Evil Lord, another being, and you, fair Elrohir."

Elrohir noticed well that one Evil lord plus one fair Elrohir were only two, not three, but he did not dare to ask who the third being had been, which was a wise decision.

"So then, young friend – you feel left out, unable to enjoy the spirit of the season, and instead you dwell in self pity. This aside, your sweetheart went to visit her family, your brother is focusing entirely on his husband, and you feel guilty for your little fantasies about…"

"No! Do NOT say it!" Elrohir squeaked, sounding like one of Estorel's toys.

"Why not?" Námo asked, "It is quite natural for an Elf of your age to admire those of wisdom and experience, and to wonder what it would be like to…"

"I said: DO NOT SAY IT!"

Nàmo shrugged.

"As you wish, little flame. But you admit that I am right?"

"About everything else – yes, mostly," Elrohir admitted, alas with a frown.

"You must learn, child, that the hearts of those who love you are houses with many rooms. You were used to living in the largest ones, and now others have taken residence there and you feel pushed aside, but trust me, living in a smaller chamber might be just as comfortable and rewarding."

"What do you mean by this?"

"That your brother and your father do not love you less just because they have shown you another room to live in. Do not feel pushed aside or less loved. Share their happiness, and find somebody who has the main room in his or her heart kept for you."

Elrohir sighed, then he looked up.

"Who resides in the main chamber of your heart, my lord?"

For the first time, Elrohir felt he had caught the Vala unaware.

"Death has to be impartial, and how could I be if I had a heart? If I had likings and dislikes? How could I bring grief to those fair and valiant and spare those who are undeserving?"

Elrohir shuddered, wrapping himself tighter into his blanket.

"That is – horrible, my lord. How can one live without a heart?"

"I do not live, Elrohir. I am Death, remember?" Námo reminded the young Elf.

"You must be very lonely," Elrohir stated, and Námo cocked his head, smiling again.

"It is time for you to sleep, little flame. Exciting days are ahead of you."

Elrohir yawned, feeling very tired all of a sudden. He sank back on his cushions, and, already half asleep, he saw Námo disappear.

"I will see that I can do my best for Elladan and ada from my small chamber," he murmured into the empty room, then his eyes glazed over in reverie, and he was fast asleep.

"I know you will," Námo said, pulling the blanket up and covering the young Elf with it, careful not to touch him.

Then he returned to the Halls of Waiting, noticing with great confusion that somewhere in his chest a tiny flame had begun to burn when he realized that he had just been given a spare room in Elrohir's heart.

* * *

**"Day four is over,  
day five is to come  
where a lord and a king  
will behave rather dumb"**


	5. DAY 5: "Return of the King"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"'It is the fifth day of Yule, now let us sing,  
all hails for the return of the pumpkin-king"**

When Elrond entered the room, Celeborn and Gil-galad sat over a game of chess. Both looked up, but Celeborn had to turn around to see who entered, so Gil quickly used the opportunity to move some of his opponent's pieces, which earned him a disapproving look from Elrond.

"How are the Yule preparations proceeding?" Celeborn asked, eyeing the Lord of Imladris, for once not in robes, but in breeches and tunic, appreciatively.

Elrond sighed.

"I hope everything will be fine by Yule. But so far, the kitchen looks like a battlefield and Orophin is close to hanging Haldir from the Yule tree as a special ornament. Love, peace and cookies all around."

Gil noticed the large black spot on Elrond's jerkin, and pointed at it.

"What happened? Did you notice that your clothes are stained?"

Elrond grumbled, staring down at the large spot.

"Eldarion dropped the ink bottle," he said, and Celeborn grinned.

"Again? Well, at least this time you were the target, not I. Did he have any more accidents?"

"No," Elrond replied, "not in the last ten minutes, anyway. He even managed to carry his toys from the Great Hall to his chamber without dropping anything or falling down the stairs."

"He did? Then there is still hope," Celeborn said, and added, not without glee, "but I must say, dear Elrond, that he obviously takes after your part of the family. He reminds me a lot on Elladan in certain respects."

Before Elrond could voice any protest, there was a knock on the door, and an Elfling entered. He had dark hair, blue eyes, and two thin braids which stuck from his head at odd angles; he had obviously made them himself. Once he saw Celeborn, his eyes lit up, and he ran towards his great-grandfather.

Unfortunately, the future king of Gondor stumbled over the rug and fell flat on his nose. He lay there for a moment, then he began to cry, a pitiful, wailing cry that only small children can produce, a sound more horrible than all the ringwraiths shrieking in chorus, and Celeborn quickly rushed over to his great-grandson and picked him up.

"Penneth, come here, and calm down, nothing has happened," he said, carrying the child toward the shelf with the cookie jar.

"Hurt!" Eldarion sniffed, pointing at his knee, and he wiped his nose with this sleeve.

"No, you are not hurt, only your pride might be damaged, and I am most certain that a cookie will help you to overcome that particular pain."

Celeborn gave the child one of Elrond's cookies, and immediately, the child stopped crying, and bit into the sweet treat.

"Thank you, greater ada," he said, though it sounded more like "Dunk you," as his two front teeth were missing.

Celeborn turned to face Elrond.

"Now say thank you to your grand ada too, Eldarion – after all, these are his cookies."

Eldarion, who knew how to wrap Celeborn around his little finger but had the greatest respect for the stern father of his mother, glanced shyly over at Elrond, who noticed with a certain degree of amusement that the braids of the Elfling were fixed with two different coloured clasps.

It really did run in the family, then.

"It is fine, Eldarion. You may eat all the cookies you like here."

"Indeed," Gil said, staring pointedly at Celeborn's waist, "it is much better if you eat all the cookies, for if you do not, somebody else will."

Celeborn bit down a snarky remark, for he didn't want to start a fight with Gil in front of the Elfling.

"But why are you still awake, Eldarion?" Elrond asked, "It is well past your bedtime!"

"I was helping Uncle Fin and Estorel to make cookies. But I dropped the bowl with the dough and got all dirty, so I had to take a bath. Nana was a bit angry, but ada said it was normal for Elflings of my age to look like a mudpie. Did you look like a mudpie too when you were an Elfling, grand ada?"

Celeborn snickered when he saw Elrond blush. Before the Lord of Rivendell could answer the question, Gil remarked: "Oh yes – he was a walking mudpie. There was no puddle he failed to fall into, penneth, trust me - I was there."

Elrond rolled his eyes.

"Now really, Gil – I do not think it is appropriate…" he began, but Gil cut him off.

"It is always appropriate to tell the truth, dear friend. And there is nothing dishonourable about the fact that you have developed from a clumsy Elfling into a perfect Elf renowned for his wisdom and elegance."

Eldarion, who had followed the banter with great interest, tugged on Celeborn's braid, and the former Lord of the Golden Wood winced.

"Will I be an elegant Elf, too, one day?" he asked, and Celeborn nodded.

"You will be an elegant Elf and great king, but for now, you are an Elfling in need of sleep, so say good-night to your grand ada and King Pumpkin, and I shall take you to your chamber myself."

Gil gnashed his teeth, but the child laughed and clapped his hands.

"Goodie! Will you tell me a story, greater ada?" he asked, and Celeborn nodded.

"Yes, of course I will, Eldarion. I will tell you the story of the Pumpkin King, and how he ended as pie on the table of the Great Lord of Lórien. It is a classic tale, you will like it."

With that, Celeborn and Eldarion left the room, and Celeborn couldn't refrain from showing Gil-galad his tongue before he left.

"One word about his last comment, Elrond, and I shall crack this chess board on your head," he warned the lord, who tried without success to stifle a giggle.

"I would never dare to comment on such a thing, dear Ereinion," he finally said.

"Fine. I would hate to be forced to sign my letters in future with 'Ereinion Gil-galad, Non-Pumpkin'," the former king grumbled, and now Elrond couldn't hold back anymore and laughed like a ten year old, a sound Gil enjoyed greatly.

"You should do this more often, Elrond," he said, "laughing becomes you. You are too serious, dear friend."

Elrond calmed down, then he sat down beside Gil-galad.

"I know. But this is my fate – I hold the life and the well-being of so many in my hands, I do not dare to lower my guard, Gil."

The tall Elf took one of Elrond's hands in his own.

"But you should still enjoy life, Elrond. You have so many good advisors here, surely you could let them carry out some of your duties?"

Elrond sighed.

"I could – but I always worry. When I was away from Imladris, I knew that Erestor would take care of everything, but half of my heart always stayed here, and in the end, I returned, for I could not find sleep at night and worried that something terrible might happen."

"I am sad to hear this, for I am sure you can trust Erestor. Certainly, he resembles a crow rather than an Elf and he would certainly not mind if I left here, but he is capable, and anybody who dares to bond to Glorfindel must have the heart of a Balrog."

Elrond laughed silently.

"Erestor his one of my dearest friends – I am sure he likes you better than you think, he just does not show it. Glorfindel believed Erestor disliked him for millennia, and you see what the outcome is."

Gil-galad pulled a face.

"I hope you are not implying that I will end up being bonded to Erestor and fathering a couple of Elflings with him, for I certainly have no wish to do so!"

Now Elrond had to giggle again.

"Dear me, no! What a thought – you would be at each other's throats within minutes - if Glorfindel did not get you before then, that is! No, what I am trying to say is: do not let him fool you. If you ignore his attitude, he can become a dear friend, and you need friends, Ereinion."

The other Elf nodded.

"Yes, I need friends, mine are all in the Halls of Waiting or on their way to Mirkwod."

"You miss Amaris," Elrond stated, and after a moment, Gil-galad nodded.

"I do. I never thought that I would admit such a thing, but yes, I miss him. Something is missing in my life since there is no longer anyone here to insult me."

Elrond gently stroked the large hand which covered his own.

"I am not a good friend, I suppose. I have less time for you than I should, and I do not insult you enough."

Gil-galad didn't answer this, but Elrond saw well the pain in the dark blue eyes.

"You know that I love you," he finally said, and the former king looked up in surprise.

"No," he replied, "to be quite honest: I do not think you love me, Elrond. I am an anachronism. I do not belong here. I have embarrassed you with my presence many times, and – so often I feel younger than you."

Elrond squeezed the large hand.

"You do belong here," he said, his tone quiet, but firm, "you always did. I have never stopped mourning you, not for one day in all these millennia. So often I dreamt about the way things would be if you were here, and when it happened, I – could not handle it. Yes, you are younger than me now, and you do many things I do not understand. But…" and with that, he ran his fingers tenderly over Gil's face, "there was a time when I was the younger of us too, foolish and with a quick temper, testing my king's patience a dozen times over with my foolishness and thoughtless deeds, and not once did he give me a harsh word or show embarrassment. All I know and all I have learned I owe to you, Ereinion – we were happy back then, we can be happy now. We just have to accept that the roles are reversed."

Gil enjoyed Elrond's gentle touch. How often had he remembered this feeling in the past ages, and how good it was to actually live and feel again, and to be here – with his love.

"So you mean that now I am the herald who has to learn, and you are the king to teach me?" he said, and Elrond smiled.

"I would not put it like that. We both know many things the other does not, so we should share our knowledge and our experience . We both have many stones, let us build a house."

Gil-galad moved forward, he was now so close to Elrond that he could feel his breath on his face, and he noticed with joy that the lord did not move away.

"Well then, Elrond, so be it – it makes not much of a difference, as you have been my king from the first moment we kissed, and my heart has been your kingdom ever since, nobody else ever ruled it. I will be your most loyal servant."

With that, he closed the gap between himself and Elrond, and their lips met for a kiss which started out sweet and loving, and turned more and more passionate, for neither of them wanted to break it, so finally, Elrond found himself lying in front of his fireplace with Gil-galad on top of him, and by the Valar, this was something he could get used to again!

"So, my king," Gil-galad purred, slowly unbuttoning Elrond's tunic, "are there any new tricks you can teach your humble servant?"

"I do not think so," Elrond gasped, trying his best not to faint again at the sensations Gil's lips on his skin produced, "but I have every intention of reading 'Mirkwood Love Secrets' over the next few days."

"No need to do so, my lovely," Gil murmured, pushing aside many layers – too many for his taste – of cloth, "I know the book by heart. Tell me a number between 1 and 99", he added, and Elrond gave him a puzzled look.

"A number? Why… well… 17?"

Gil-galad laughed.

"Well – that is for the more experienced readers, Elrond - I would suggest we start with position number 3, which is a classic and mostly very well received, and just made for a Herald to serve his King," he said, and began to unbutton Elrond's breeches.

"And what, if I dare to ask, IS position number 3?" Elrond said, lifting his hips to assist Gil with his task.

But there came no answer - position No. 3 did not allow show and tell at the same time.

* * *

**"Another day over, the fifth it has been  
Tomorrow we'll visit some Galadhrim." **


	6. DAY 6: "Fathers and sons"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**It was the sixth day of Yule, and sure you agree  
That this is a most complicated family."**

"Haldir, I have to talk to you. No, no, this is the wrong approach... Haldir, please take a seat. Ai Elbereth, this is not working, either..."

Orophin paced up and down Master Erestor's study, wearing out the rug, while Lord Elrond's chief advisor listened patiently to the umpteenth draft of the little speech the Galadhrim intended to give to his - son. Son it was, not brother. Why was this so difficult? Why could he not just go to Haldir and say: "Look, Haldir, I know this must come as a surprise to you, but I am not your brother, but your father, a bit odd, I admit, but stranger things have happened, like to go for a glass of wine in the tavern?"

He couldn't do it because Haldir would most probably drop dead on the spot, so Orophin sighed, looking first at Erestor and then at Rúmil, who had both promised to stay during the upcoming talk with Haldir to provide moral support and medical aid, if it should be required.

"Orophin - just be yourself. Be honest, he is not made out of glass. Why do you assume he will take this news badly? He might equally well be delighted, you cannot know!" Rúmil said, and stretched out his legs.

"Rúmil - you know Haldir just as well as I do. From all you have told me, learning that he is a peredhel has been a great shock to him, and now this - see, I do not want to hurt him. But Yule is also a celebration of family, and I feel he has a right to know."

Erestor got up, and joined Orophin, who stood by the window.

"I know what it is like to be confronted with a so-far unknown fact about oneself. Yes, it can be a shock, but it can also be the key to open a door to a new world. Maybe Haldir will never see you as his father, maybe you will never see him as your son, but you will always see each other as brothers, and nothing will change the love between you. So do not be afraid, Orophin - you care strongly for each other, this bond will not break."

"I wish I was as optimistic as you, Master Erestor," Orophin sighed, and he wanted to add something, but at that very moment, somebody knocked on the door, and the Galadhrim paled.

"It’s him," he gasped, "I know it, only he knocks like this."

Erestor patted him encouragingly on the arm one last time, then he called: "Come in, Haldir!"

The door opened, and a puzzled looking Haldir entered the study.

"Did I come at the wrong time?" he asked, seeing not only Orophin, who he was supposed to meet here, but also Rúmil and Master Erestor, obviously waiting for him.

"No... no not at all," Orophin said, fiddling with his belt, "Rúmil and Master Erestor are here to... they wish to help me to... ai Elbereth!"

Orophin flopped down in a chair, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He looked up at Haldir, who was now completely confused, and also worried, for he could not remember having seen Orophin this nervous before. His oldest brother used to be calm and rational no matter what the situation.

Haldir knelt down beside the chair, and took Orophin's hand.

"Brother - what is wrong? I see that you are in distress - is there anything I can help you with?"

Orophin cleared his throat and decided that it would be best to get it over and done with it.

"Haldir - I must tell you something, and you must promise me not to get upset, no matter what I tell you, will you promise this?"

"Why - but yes, speak, brother," Haldir said, even more worried, and Orophin thought that he would suffer a heart attack if Haldir used the word "brother" one more time this day.

"It is about - your nana," Orophin began, and Haldir's eyes widened.

"Has anything happened? I thought nothing happened in Valinor?"

"No, no, not Nana Mya - I mean your real nana, Haldir - the... woman who brought you into life."

Haldir jumped up, all excited.

"My real nana? Orophin - how do you know? I never told you... has Lord Celeborn remembered something? Did he tell you? What do you know? Please, brother, do not torture me so, tell me what you know!"

Orophin took a deep breath.

"Haldir - this is not about Lord Celeborn. This is about - me. And you. See, I... I knew your nana."

With that, Orophin got up, and stepped to the window again, turning his back to Haldir. Maybe this was not the most tactful thing to do, but he just couldn't tell Haldir what he had to tell while facing him.

"You knew my nana?" Haldir gasped.

"Yes. Yes, I knew her, very well, actually."

Haldir grabbed Orophin's sleeve.

"What do you know about her? Who was she? What was her name? What was she like?"

Orophin didn't turn around.

"She was a wonderful, generous woman, Haldir. Her name was Lily, and she was the oldest daughter of the blacksmith who... owned me."

The last two words almost made him sick, but it had to be said.

"She was the one who set me free. Without her, I might have spent many more centuries in slavery. She was strong and brave; she had a good heart, and risked falling out with her family by giving me my freedom."

Haldir moved to stand in front of Orophin, and now there as no way to avoid his questioning gaze anymore - in fact Haldir's whole face was one big question mark.

"Do you... I mean, did you... did you know my ada, too? Is he still alive? Who was he?" he whispered, and Orophin's heart contracted when he saw tears in eyes of the other Elf.

He took Haldir's hand gently in his, careful, as if he were holding a bird or a butterfly.

"I know your ada, yes. He is alive, Haldir, and he loves you very, very much, and he would never want you to be sad or hurt. He only found out about... about this recently, and could not find the courage to tell you."

Haldir looked at Orophin, then down at the hand that held his own, looked up again - and then he understood. He felt as if he were seeing Orophin for the first time, noticed the shape of the eyebrows, a certain line around Orophin's nose, and memories flashed up in his mind, like lightning in a storm. Walking through the Golden Woods holding Orophin's hand, running crying to him when he was frightened, getting his first bow, carved by Orophin... his father?

The younger elf moved his hand away as if he had touched into fire.

"You are my father? You? And you all knew this? And did not tell me?" he said, looking at Rúmil and Erestor accusingly.

"It was not our place to tell you, penneth," Rúmil said, using the loving nickname for the first time in many millennia.

"Haldir, I..." Orophin began, trying to hug the other Elf, but Haldir pushed him away, violently, his eyes blazing.

"You! Do not dare to touch me! All these years I have pitied you for your harsh youth - some slavery that must have been! Bedding a mortal - leave me be, I never want to see you again!"

With that, Haldir stormed out, and Orophin, who tried to follow him, was held back by Erestor.

"No, stay here, my friend. Let him sort out his thoughts and feelings, it will only cause harm if you try to talk to him now."

Rúmil got up and hugged Orophin, kissing him on the cheek; his brother's sad expression cut deep into his heart.

"Do not cry, Orophin - he will understand. Give him time."

Orophin didn't move, he just stared at the open door through which Haldir had left.

* * *

It was already late at night when Orophin finally found Haldir. He sat in the shadow of the fountain, staring at the large Yule tree, the same they had decorated only a few days ago.

He looked up when he saw Orophin, and from his puffy eyes, he could tell that his brother had been crying.

Brother - no, not his brother. His father. Haldir closed his eyes for a moment; they burnt, for Orophin had not been the only one shedding tears today.

"Can I... do you mind if I keep you... company?" Orophin shyly asked, and after a moment of hesitation, Haldir nodded, so Orophin sat down beside the younger Elf, careful not to touch him, and simply waited. The lights on the large tree were somehow comforting, and he almost started when Haldir whispered: "I am sorry."

The two Elves looked at each other, and Orophin dared a small smile. It was so tiny, in fact, that one would not have seen it, normally, but Haldir noticed well.

"Do not be - I understand..." Orophin began, but Haldir shook his head.

"I should not have said such mean and hurtful things. I just... never expected such a thing."

"Nor did I, Haldir," Orophin quietly said.

For a while, the two sat in silence, gazing at the tree, then Haldir asked:

"Did you love her?"

Orophin nodded.

"Yes - yes, I did. She was the only one who treated me like a being with a soul, who told me that I was - fair. And she gave me my freedom. She made me feel like I was equal, not a - merchandise."

He looked at Haldir and blushed. "It was... you know... the first..."

He broke off.

"I see," Haldir said, "all the more must I ask for your forgiveness. It was a shock to learn that you are my ada, and I do not know yet if I will ever see you in another way than I did all those years - as my brother."

"It was a shock for me, too, Haldir - to realize that I was Bramble's grandfather..."

The two looked at each other, then they smiled, grinned, and finally burst out in loud laughter. The ban was broken, and they hugged each other, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Ai, Orophin! You are Bramble's great ada! And not to forget, Rabbit's father-in-law!"

"A scary thought," Orophin snickered, "but not half as scary as the fact that, theoretically, you are Lord Elrond's grandchild."

Haldir paled.

"I am? No. Yes?"

"Of course you are - I am married to his son, which makes Elladan your stepfather, and hence you are Lord Elrond's step grandchild."

Haldir frowned.

"This is terrible - it means that Lady Arwen is my aunt and Estel my uncle."

"Do not complain - I have a son-in-law who howls to the moon and a grand child who eats raw crayfish."

"You know what the most terrifying thing is, Orophin?"

"What?"

"That I will probably not be able to resist the temptation to greet the Lady Galadriel tomorrow with 'dearest great grandmother'...."

The laughter of the two Elves echoed from the mountain walls of the valley, and the stars above tried to outshine the lights on the Yule tree, while Galadriel was deeply asleep, safely cradled in Rúmil's arms and blissfully unaware of the latest addition to her family.

Which, coming to think of it, was probably a good thing.

* * *

**"Day six has passed,  
day seven is near,  
with some strange gifts arriving  
and some trouble, I fear."**


	7. DAY 7: "No rest for the wicked"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"It is the seventh day of Yule, the eighth is near  
And Fin gets his present early this year"**

Yuletide was always hectic, especially for Erestor, who had not only his son to look after, but all of Imladris, and if it hadn't been for Orophin's help, Elrond's chief advisor wouldn't have found a minute of rest in the twelve days of Yule.

Erestor was exhausted and found it increasingly difficult to stay awake during the meetings with Lord Elrond, and Glorfindel was worried.

"You wear yourself out, beloved," the warrior said, pushing a wayward strand of black hair behind Erestor's ear. "This is Yule, a time for laughter, joy and love, Erestor. You are supposed to prepare for days in the presence of your loved ones, not for a battle."

Erestor sighed, and his shoulders slumped.

"Fin - this might be true from your point of view, but believe me: overseeing the preparations for the great Yule celebration IS preparing for a battle - there are a thousand things I need to think of, and I am sure I have forgotten half of them. Food must be ordered, the servants instructed, the Last Homely House cleaned. I am responsible for the whole organisation, for the entertainment on the great night, and in-between I should find some time for my son and my husband and must make sure that Gil-galad and Celeborn restrict their cock fights to verbal insults, and no, Fin, I do NOT want to hear the obvious pun about cock fights now."

Glorfindel sulked for about a minute, for he had, indeed, intended to comment, but the sight of his tired, pale and obviously exhausted husband smoothed his feathers down rather quickly.

"Promise me to take some rest, Erestor, I do not want you to fall ill - will you promise me?" Fin asked, very worried, and stroked his lover's face. Erestor nodded, but his mind was already occupied with the decoration for the table, and needless to say, he neither took a rest nor did he slow down. As a consequence, Elrond found him in the library this very evening, slumped over scrolls and books, and he was so exhausted that he didn't even notice when the Lord of Imladris called for his servants, picked him up and carried him back to his chambers personally.

Glorfindel was most worried, and when Elrond gave him a sign that he wished to speak to him in private, he obeyed, but not without turning four times to look at the still, pale figure that looked so small and lost in the large bed.

"Pray tell, Elrond - what is wrong with him?" Fin asked, and Elrond sighed.

"The same as always, Glorfindel - he just does not know when to slow down. I have told him, you have told him, we all have told him - but he does not listen. He must learn to leave some duties to others - Melpomaen, for example, has a good hand and taste for decoration, he should delegate the arrangement of the ornaments and the tableware to him."

Glorfindel shook his head, and looked very sad.

"I know, Elrond, but this is almost impossible. Erestor always worries that things are not done the right way if he does not do them himself. It is one of his greatest weaknesses, and I am most worried. He never fully recovered after Estorel's birth, you surely know this better than I do."

"I know." Elrond sat down in a large chair. He thought about the whole matter for a while, then he said: "I can give him potions and draughts to restore his strength, but if his mind does not find some rest, all is in vain. You must find a way to stop him from wearing himself out, Glorfindel. And now is as good a day to start as any other."

With that, he gave Orophin, who held watch in front of Erestor's door, a sign, and the guardian immediately rushed to his lord's side.

"Orophin, I have a wish - I shall not be angry if you refuse to fulfil it, for it is outwith your duties, and I would not want to ask anything of you which might go against my sons wishes, but do you think it possible to take Estorel to your chambers for the next few days? Master Erestor needs rest, and as long as the Elfling is awake, which he is almost all the time, he will always run and fuss over the child."

Orophin smiled.

"Oh, this is no burden at all, my lord! Elladan and I both love the little one, it will be a delight to have him in our chambers!"

Elrond returned the smile, and patted his son-in-law's hand.

"Thank you, Orophin. And please - do not call me 'my lord' all the time. We are family now. Call me any name you like."

"Yes, my lord," Orophin answered, and turned to go to the nursery to see to Estorel.

Fin had to grin, despite his worries, and Elrond rolled his eyes.

"It could be worse, Elrond - he could call you pumpkin," he snickered, and Elrond glared daggers at his seneschal.

"If you are not careful, you shall be in need of a healer very soon, dear friend," he grumbled.

"But back to Erestor - I want him to rest. REST. As in: stay in bed. As in: eat enough. As in: sleep enough. As in: I hold you personally responsible if I should see even as little as the tip of his long nose in any place which is connected with work. Have I made myself clear, Glorfindel?"

"Crystal clear, my lord," Glorfindel answered, "shall I send a servant to fetch the chains and the handcuffs, or do you prefer me to pick them up myself?"

Elrond looked at Fin, rather bemused.

"Chains? Handcuffs? Why - what are you about to do? Track down a horse thief?"

"No," Glorfindel replied, "keep Erestor in bed."

Elrond smiled - a fine, mocking grin it was, rather smug, too.

"My, my - who would have thought that I would live to see the day where Glorfindel of Gondolin is unable to keep somebody in his bed without the help of chains and handcuffs... ai, I suppose we all get older."

With that, he turned to leave, and only when he had reached the door did he turn around and give Fin The Eyebrow.

"Pray tell, Glorfindel - how come you know I could provide the equipment you asked for?" he asked, trying his best to look regal and stern.

Now it was Fin's turn to smile smugly.

"But Elrond - I did not know."

He batted his lashes at his lord, and added:

"Not until now."

With that, he left the room to look after Erestor, which deprived him of the rare sight of an Elven Lord who hit his head repeatedly on a book shelf.

* * *

When all the servants had left, Erestor finally woke up. It took a moment for him to take in where he was, but when he finally realized that he wore his night robes and lay in his bed, he immediately tried to get up.

"Ah, no - you stay here, beloved. The healer said so, and I agree."

It was Fin - why was he here at this time? And why was he here? He had to get up, there was so much work to do, things to organize, letters to write - but two gentle, but firm hands pressed him down into the soft bedding again.

"Fin, I have no time for this nonsense - please let me get up," Erestor said, a little impatient, but his husband only shook his head.

"No. Elrond said you need to rest, and by the Valar, you will rest, even if I have to tie you down."

"This is ridiculous - I feel fine! I only took a little nap, for the Valar's sake, do not fuss over me like this, I will not have it!"

"Fine," Fin said, and shrugged. "If you do not mind another kin slaying - get up and go back to work, for a kin slaying it will be if you try to leave this room, for you will only leave over my dead body."

Under normal circumstances, Erestor would have put up a big fight, but he really was exhausted, and the soft pillows felt so wonderful. How nice it would be to just stay here, resting... but this couldn't be, there was too much work, and then there was Glorfindel's present, of course.

"Please, Fin - I promise I will work less and get more rest, but I have so much work to do - is it really your wish to see all of Imladris sit around an empty table on Yule Eve?"

Glorfindel hugged Erestor, and kissed his temple.

"Darling - the table in Imladris has never been empty. Even if we only get to eat some odd looking Orcish stew à la Mauburz - we will not starve. Your health is so much more important - to me, to Estorel, to all of us."

Erestor leant into Glorfindel's touch, burying his face in the warrior's chest, rubbing his cheek on the dark blue suede jerkin, and took a deep breath. He loved Glorfindel's scent - it was leather, horse, fresh air, trees, and sometimes, though he tried to hide it, a hint of Old Toby. Erestor felt safe and protected, and most of all loved in Glorfindel's arms, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the intimate moment.

Glorfindel gently rocked him, humming a tune, and stroked his back - like he used to do with Estorel when their son hurt from teething and couldn't sleep. It was comforting, and amazing, and Erestor snuggled as close up to his husband as possible.

"I do not tell you nearly enough how much I love you," Glorfindel said, resting his chin on top of Erestor's head, "or how much you mean to me. How empty my life was, and how lonely. If you are happy, I am happy, too, and if you are sad, I cry as well."

He moved to cup Erestor's chin with one hand, and forced the other Elf to look at him.

"I am not jesting, Erestor. I want you to rest, I want you to get back your strength. I will not allow your work or your duties to exhaust you - the only one who is allowed to exhaust you is I, heed my words!"

He pressed a firm kiss on Erestor's lips, and noticed with delight the smile in his husband's eyes.

"I bow to your wishes, beloved," Erestor sighed, and nuzzled Fin's ear. "And I also wish to give you my Yule present now."

Glorfindel cocked his head.

"Now? But it is only the seventh day of Yule, Erestor!"

A mysterious smile played around Erestor's lips.

"I know - but I feel I have to give it to you now. It is there, in my chest - wrapped in red velvet."

Fin got up and walked over to the piece of furniture which he jokingly called "Erestor's treasure chest", for it contained an odd collection of items which might look like junk to other people, but held great value for Erestor. He opened the lid, and indeed, there was a large item, wrapped in dark velvet. He bent down to lift it up.

"Be careful, Fin - it is heavy, and it will break if you let it drop!" Erestor warned.

"Darling, what did you get me - a marble statue of Celeborn?" Fin grunted, and carried the package over to the bed, placing it beside Erestor and then kneeling beside him.

"Now what might this be," he mused, looking at the present from all angles.

"You will never know if you do not open it," Erestor grinned.

"Good point."

Fin made quick word of the yellow silk bow, the velvet fell aside, and there it was.

"A pot?" Fin asked, looking rather puzzled and, yes, a little bit disappointed, too.

Erestor put his hand on his arm.

"Open it up, Fin - but very carefully, or you might spill it."

"Spill it? Have you raided Elrond's wine cellar?"

Carefully, Glorfindel lifted the lid - then he stared. He stared at the contents, he stared at Erestor, and it took him a moment to understand the meaning of this present. Quicker than a squirrel catches a nut he put the pot down on the floor, and then hugged Erestor, covering his face with kisses.

"This is the most beautiful present you have ever made me, Erestor, no, the most beautiful present I ever got for any Yule!" he cried, kissing Erestor again. Unfortunately, he was a little too enthusiastic, and knocked the pot over with his foot.

But as he was too busy hugging his husband, he did not notice that the whole floor was flooded with sticky pink paint. And even if he had noticed: he wouldn't have cared.

* * *

**"Day eight will put your patience at test  
so do as our Elves do, and get some rest!" **


	8. DAY 8: "Treats and trees"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"It is the eighth day of Yule, the Elfling is playing  
the guardian is musing, the trees are swaying"**

"Ai – now you are a beauty!" Orophin said to himself, and patted the bark of the large spruce lovingly.

"I do not know yet how I will get you back to the Last Homely House, but somehow I will manage."

Orophin was an Elf on a mission. This was the first traditional Elven Yule Celebration of his marriage, and he wanted everything to be perfect. He and Elladan had only recently moved into their own chambers, in a wing far away from Lord Elrond's chambers, and luckily, the redecoration had been finished just in time for the festive season.

There was no plush or velvet – these were warriors' chambers - but at the same time, Elladan's hand had placed a picture here and an ornament there, just enough to make the place look and feel like a real home. Weapons decorated the walls and the only luxury was a sinfully large bed, courtesy of Lord Glorfindel, who had given them the skilfully carved monster as a present.

Right now, the Lórien Elf was dreaming of an exquisite Yule dinner, of scented candles filling the room with their sweet fragrance, and, of course, of this wonderful tree here. It looked like it had grown just for the purpose of being decorated and having Elladan seduced underneath it.

So the Galadhrim picked up the axe he had put aside in the snow, and began his task. It took him only ten minutes to fell the tree, but another hour to drag his heavy load back home. When he arrived in the courtyard, slightly out of breath, half a dozen servants came running, led by Melpomaen, who clapped his hands over his head.

"My lord," he cried, "what have you been thinking to do such heavy work? We have enough servants to carry out your orders; one word and the tree would have been here in no time!"

Orophin blushed, thanked Melpomaen and left it to him to take the tree into his chambers. Then he hurried directly to the nursery to take Estorel for a walk. Sometimes he doubted that he would ever get used to the fact that he was now a noble Elf, for he certainly didn't feel like one. Lord Elrond had already hinted that there were about four shelves worth of books waiting for Orophin to study, so that he would learn all there was to know about Imladris' history, customs and politics.

He groaned while he lightly stepped up the stairs, for he certainly felt more home and at ease in the woods than in a library, but if this was part of becoming a worthy husband to Elladan, he would do it.

Glorfindel had already dressed Estorel, so all Orophin had to do was to pick the Elfling up and walk with him down to the Bruinen while Estorel's bed was moved to the extra chamber next to Elladan's and Orophin's - they had promised to look after the child for a few days so that Master Erestor got some rest.

It was a cold, but beautiful winter day, and Estorel was in the best of moods. Erestor insisted that his son was outside as often as possible, he wanted the child to be in touch with nature and its spirit from an early age, and Orophin, who often felt trapped inside the thick walls of the Last Homely House, enjoyed these walks greatly.

He talked to the Elfling as he would have to an adult, something he had done with the twins when they were little, and earlier on with Haldir, for he saw no use in teaching a child baby talk. He also made a habit of repeating every sentence in Westron as well – in times like these, it would certainly be useful for Estorel to speak the common tongue.

Estorel, like all Elflings, had immediately taken a great liking to his guardian, and held long conversations with the quiet, silver-blond Elf in his own language – a language only Orophin, Glorfindel and Erestor seemed to understand.

Today Orophin felt a little melancholic while he sat by the banks of the river, holding Estorel, who had fallen asleep after playing in the snow for an hour. His thoughts wandered to Haldir, and it hurt him greatly to realize that he had missed out on a very important part of his life. Would he have cared for Haldir more or less if he had known that the annoying Elfling who kept running after him was his son? He would certainly have cared in a different way. Orophin felt robbed of the chance to be a father, and the knowledge that he would never have this chance again made him sad. He almost envied Rabbit and Erestor, who had been given an immeasurable gift with their ability to give life.

Estorel woke up, and sneezed twice, a sure sign that it was time to bring the child back home. Orophin put the Elfling on the ground, and Estorel took three careful steps in the deep snow, then he stumbled and fell, and with his thick layer of clothing, he couldn't get up again on his own. Orophin grinned, for the child looked like a bug who had landed on his back. Estorel kicked his feet and waved his arms, but instead of crying, he began to giggle, and Orophin admired once again the sunny nature of the little one.

"Up, up, Phin!" he laughed, and Orophin immediately complied.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you smile, penneth, I must insist that we return to Elladan, who should be finished with his work at the Healing House," he said to Estorel, picking him up and gently brushing the snow from the Elflings clothes. He sat the child on his shoulders; Estorel giggled again, and immediately began to tug on Orophin's braids. Now that he was married, there were small, dark blue beads woven into the silver blond strands, a sign of his new status, and the child was fascinated by this new toy, so he took every opportunity to torment his guardian.

The two made their way home, Orophin singing to the Elfling. Then it was the same procedure as every evening: undressing Estorel, making sure that his dinner ended up in his mouth, not in his hair or on the carpet, giving him his sponge bath, wrapping him in warm towels, dressing him for the night, sitting in the rocking chair and singing a lullaby. When it came to Estorel, he was more of a mother-hen than Erestor at times, and secretly, he was even a little grateful that he could now spend more time with the child.

He had never sung lullabies for Haldir. He hadn't known any - maybe his mother had sung him to sleep, but he couldn't remember his mother. And when he came to the Golden Woods, so many millennia ago, he had to learn the language first, for all he spoke was the Common Tongue. It had taken him years to hold a real conversation with Rúmil, who spoke no Westron at all.

While Estorel slowly fell asleep, Orophin's thoughts wandered back to his youth, or at least the part of his youth he liked to remember. What had Haldir looked like as a baby? Cuddly. Had he cried a lot? Not really, all in all, he had been a happy Elfling.

To think that he had seen his own child grow up and not known! Orophin felt cheated, and so did Haldir - though, truth be told, had he known back then, he would probably have fled in panic. How old had he been? 70? 80? Orophin shook his head.

Estorel was already asleep, so Orophin got up very carefully so as not to wake the child, for this would have ended in a vocal demand that Orophin also kissed his hobbit doll good-night. He put Estorel down in his bed and tucked the blankets in, pressed a gentle kiss on the child's head, and then opened the door to his own chambers.

Or rather - he tried to, for something was leaning heavily on the door; it took quite some force to push it open wide enough to slip into the room, and it was with no little surprise that he found himself standing in the woods.

Elladan, who was lying comfortably on a rug in front of the fireplace, waved and laughed: "Hello beloved! Is this not simply fantastic?"

"Fantastic?" Orophin gasped, taking in the scenery. "What in Elbereth's name has happened here?"

"That is a very valid question," Elladan said, putting the book he had read aside. "My theory is as follows: being the sweet soul that you are, you decided to surprise me with a Yule tree. And being the sweet soul that I am, I had the same idea. Unfortunately, both my ada and Lord Glorfindel thought to surprise us with a Yule tree, too, and where the other two trees came from, I do not know yet, but I suspect one is from Elrohir and one from Arwen. So welcome to the chambers of the six trees, dear husband, where firewood will never run out and squirrels nest in the bedchamber!"

This was no exaggeration. The room was filled with spruces – the hearth-rug being the only place where one could see the floor, and Orophin had to step over branches and twigs like a crane in the river to get to his husband, who obviously found the chaotic situation to be most amusing.

"Ai, Elladan, what are we going to do with all these trees?" Orophin asked, slightly desperate, and his husband shrugged.

"You ask me? You are the Galadhrim – you tell me what to do with them. Maybe they will leave if we hug them?" he asked hopefully, and Orophin rolled his eyes.

Elladan flopped down on the closest branches, and sighed happily.

"This is very comfortable, Orophin – it really is. And I like the scent of the crushed needles."

"Do you intend to sleep on these trees now?" Orophin asked, carefully kneeling down beside Elladan and kissing him.

"No, sleeping was not on my mind, to be honest," Elladan said, and winked at his husband, "I suggest you shed your clothes and join me in this unplanned, but nevertheless heartfelt spontaneous celebration of nature's beauty."

Now Orophin had to smile as well. Elladan was hard to resist when he was in such a playful mood, and so he watched with delight as the younger Elf slipped out of jerkin, tunic and breeches and stretched out on the branches of the tree again, looking like a delicious meal arranged on a green plate.

Orophin lost no time in joining his husband and began to cover his face with butterfly kisses.

"Did everything go well with Estorel?" Elladan asked, running his fingers through Orophin's hair.

"Yes - he is a lovely child; he was trying to catch snowflakes with his tongue."

Elladan laughed.

"Oh, I used to do that as well! I once also tried to lick the ice off the gate, and my tongue got stuck to it."

Orophin snickered.

"I doubt this could happen to anybody else but you!" he grinned, and Elladan giggled.

"Indeed! I can only hope my children will not be as clumsy as I am," he said, and the very minute the words had left his lips, his smile froze.

Orophin noticed, and immediately tried to get up. "I am sorry," he said.

"What for?" Elladan asked, keeping him in place. "It was I who spoke without thinking - I... I would not want to be married to anyone but you."

Orophin sighed.

"This might be true now, Elladan - but you are still very young. The day will come when you might regret that you never had children. I could not blame you."

Elladan nuzzled Orophin's ear.

"I would be a terrible father, beloved. I would forget where I put the baby, and if I had more than one, I would mix up their names all the time. Arwen has two, and from all I can tell, only a lock on Estel's chamber will keep her from having five or six more. He looked rather exhausted, to be honest.

Then there are Estorel, Bramble - and Glorfindel. Yes - I really think we have enough Elflings in Rivendell."

Though Orophin still had his doubts, he gave in to Elladan's cheerfulness, and kissed him. After a good while, Elladan broke the kiss, and gave his husband a sultry look.

"Ada would chide us, beloved, for we are neglecting our duties," he purred, wriggling under Orophin and making the older Elf gasp.

"Duties? What duties?"

"Well - decorating our tree, for example," Elladan replied, gently drawing circles, spirals and other patterns on Orophin's strong back and nibbling on his shoulder.

The Lórien Elf gazed down at his dark-haired husband, admiring how the long lashes half-covered the slate-grey eyes.

"This tree looks like it is decorated already, beloved," he murmured, "and I doubt any colourful bauble or silver chain could be more beautiful than you."

Elladan sighed with happiness, and decided not to mention that he could feel spruce needles stinging in all the wrong places - some things were worth suffering for.

* * *

**"Happy couples sure are fine,  
For all others there's Yule-day number nine."**


	9. DAY 9: "Yuletide Blues"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"It is the ninth day of Yule, and some do fear  
that they might be lonely on Yule this year."**

According to Gil-galad's tales, the Halls of Waiting were a place of contemplation. Mistakes in the life which had passed were considered and, once the fëa was reborn, wrongs committed previously could be righted by noble and good deeds.

'If this is true,' Melpomaen thought, 'then I must have been the Dark Lord himself in a former life, for nothing else would justify that I have to suffer this.'

'This' was currently sitting in a dark corner of the tavern, throwing dice with two dwarves, two men and a Rohirrim and was, as far as Melpomaen could tell, on his sixth or seventh tankard of ale.

The young Elf sighed, and stood a little undecided in the door of the "Crying Wench", one of the three taverns within the borders of Rivendell, and wrinkled his nose. The stench of pipe weed stung in his nose, thick clouds of smoke hung in the room, and there were quite a few less than trustworthy mortals sitting bent over ale or Shire brandy.

Melpomaen was not here by free will, the "Crying Wench" not a tavern he would frequent under normal circumstances. He was here because Lord Elrond himself had honoured him with the task of making sure Lord Celeborn would find his way home to the Last Homely House, and not end up, as had happened two nights before, sleeping his drunkenness off in the pigsty of a local farmer.

Why he, of all the Elves at Elrond's court, had been entrusted with this task, Melpomaen didn't know. He was only three hundred years old, an Elfling by Celeborn's standard, a skinny scholar who reached up to the lord's shoulders. He had never been to battle, never seen much outside of Rivendell and Lothlórien, and Melpomaen thought that it would take an Elf of Lord Glorfindel's calibre to keep Lord Celeborn at bay. No, he corrected himself at the sight of the heavily drunk Elven lord pinching the backside of the waitress; it was not a Balrog slayer that was needed here, but a Balrog.

However, Melpomaen worshiped the ground Lord Elrond walked on, he was thankful beyond measure that the Half-elf had trusted him, despite his young age, to become one of his advisors, and he would have died for him - which might possibly be the case in the next few minutes.

Melpomaen took a deep breath, then he began to walk towards the table where Celeborn was seated, drawing his robes very close to his body to keep them out of harms way, for the floor was filthy, and the guests looked like they might spill their ale or worse over the garments of innocent bystanders. When he finally had reached the lord's table, he cleared his throat to catch Celeborn's attention, then bowed his head respectfully.

"My lord," he began, "Lord Elrond has sent me. He asked me to come here and escort you home."

Celeborn squeezed his eyes into tiny slits and looked Melpomaen up and down, and the young Elf thought that the lord was considering whether he was edible or not. For a moment, Celeborn didn't say a word, then he snorted and said: "Go home, grasshopper. This is no place for a child, and I shall leave and return as it pleases me, and if Elrond does not approve, he can send his pumpkin after me, I shall give him my comments on this personally."

Then he snickered, and returned his attention to the dwarves, the man of Rohan and the dice.

Melpomaen sighed.

"My lord, with all due respect, Lord Elrond has ordered me to escort you home."

Celeborn grinned, turned back to Melpomaen and propped his head on his hand.

"Has he, now really? This is most interesting, Elfling, for now you are in a fix: you must obey your lord's command, but I, on the other hand, need not, and I am most unwilling to leave. What are you going to do about it? Will you force me? Carry me back to Rivendell?"

Melpomaen blushed heavily, and Celeborn's companions roared with laughter, and one of the men bent over the table and said: "Hey Elf, why don't you comply? I certainly wouldn't turn down an escort like this one!"

He gave Melpomaen a lecherous look, and winked at the young Elf.

"My lord! I must insist that you follow me now!" he said, and stomped his foot, an action which, of course, only increased the merriment of those present.

Celeborn took another swig of his ale, and waved Melpomaen off.

"Go home, Elfling, you have no business here."

It was clear to see - he would not convince Celeborn to come home now, so Melpomaen sighed and left the tavern, ignoring the remarks that were directed at him from left and right. He sat on a bench outside of the Tavern, pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and decided to wait outside for Lord Celeborn. At least he would make sure the Elven lord would return to the right home.

It began to snow, and Melpomaen sighed - this would be a long night.

* * *

Meanwhile, the gambling and drinking inside had been going on, and as usual, Celeborn was winning, despite his state of heavy drunkenness. His concentration was focused on the dice, so he did not notice the looks the two men exchanged. The Rohirrim had left for his chamber earlier on, and now the two Dwarves bid their farewell, too, as they had to get up early in the next morrow. So this left Celeborn alone with the two mortals, and after three more games, he was tired enough to call it a day, got up and said good-night.

As soon as he had left, the two men paid and made to follow him, for they had lost quite a few pieces of gold, and were determined to get them back. Certainly the drunken Elf would be an easy victim.

Melpomaen saw the lord leave the tavern, and followed the staggering figure at some distance. He did not want to upset the lord, but he would see to it that no harm befell him, and if he should stumble and fall, he could always help him up. After a few steps, Melpomaen felt a heavy hand grab his shoulder, and he was spun around with such force that his hood dropped back from his head and revealed his face.

"Now look who we have here," the man, whom Melpomaen recognized as one of Celeborn's gambling companions, sneered, "it's the Elf's escort. Hasn't your mummy taught you not to go out alone at night, my pretty one?"

Melpomaen tried to move away, but the man's heavy hand rested like an iron claw on his neck and held him firmly in place.

"Yes, that's him, pretty little thing," his friend said, roughly stroking Melpomaen's face. The young Elf began to struggle, but he really stood no chance against the two of them.

"Pretty, yes, nice hair, like a maiden. Say, how about we leave the Elf the gold and take this one with us, as compensation?"

The other snickered, and cold fear sneaked up Melpomaen's spine.

"I like the idea. Bind and gag him, and then let's leave this place."

When he heard this, Melpomaen began fighting for his life, freedom and honour for all he was worth. He kicked and hit, and managed to get free. He tried to run away, but was tackled down to the ground immediately, and felt his face pressed into the snow. His cheek got scratched by a sharp stone, and when he continued his struggle, he saw the snow stained with blood - his own blood.

"What in the Valar's name is going on here?" a voice barked behind them, and immediately, Melpomaen felt the weight of the mortal lifted off of him, and to his great amazement, he saw his body flying through the air, hitting the wall of the closest building and slumping down on the ground.

"We were only having a bit of fun," the second man whined, "only tried to scare the young one a little, it was only harmless jesting!"

Celeborn, for no other than he had come to Melpomaen's rescue, crossed his arms over his chest, and if the young one had ever seen a warrior, then it was the Lord of the Golden Wood, hair flying, eyes blazing, and as sober as the freshly fallen snow.

"Then I am sure you will not mind if I have a bit of innocent fun with you as well," Celeborn said, "and my idea of fun is seeing your guts spread all over the place to dry."

It all happened within the fraction of a second: the man drew a dagger from his boot and attacked Celeborn, who quickly rolled aside, but still, the man was armed, the Elf was not, and Melpomaen was not willing to take any chances, so he jumped on the man and tried to drag him away from the lord. The blade of the dagger flashed in the moonlight, and Melpomaen clung to the hand that held the weapon, which ended in a struggle, and finally he was hit by a heavy fist right in the face.

Melpomaen fell like a stone, and blacked out.

* * *

If only the two swords on the wall would stop moving, he might be able to convince his head to stop spinning as well.

Swords?

There were no swords in his room, this he knew for sure. And despite a headache from Mordor, Melpomaen began to wonder where he was, if not in his chamber?

"Good to see you are still alive," somebody grumbled, and Melpomaen turned his head, wincing at the sound.

It was Lord Celeborn, holding a mug.

"Here, drink this, it will help you get rid of your headache," he said, and helped the young Elf to sit up.

Melpomaen took the mug, sipped and pulled a face.

"Bitter!" he said, and shuddered.

"Yes. It is one of the great tragedies in life that everything which should make you feel better tastes like Warg dung," the lord said, and Melpomaen smiled, which hurt, and he now realized that the left side of his face was swollen and sore. He reached up with his hand, and touched his cheek.

"What happened?" he asked, feeling the hot skin, and Celeborn sighed.

"You caught a black eye in a heroic attempt to safe my less than honourable person, and so became another of my victims."

Melpomaen closed his eyes for a moment. There had been the tavern, and the two men, and...

"Are you hurt, my lord?" he asked, worried, and Celeborn shook his head.

"No, penneth - and that is mainly thanks to your courage. I must say, you fought bravely for a scroll shuffler."

Melpomaen took another sip of the healing draught, and then he leant back on the cushions.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"In my quarters. I wanted to be sure you were well cared for."

Celeborn looked seriously at the young Elf, whose eye had taken on an interesting dark blue colour, and sighed again.

"I must apologize. I have behaved like the fool I am - I should not have taken my anger out on you. This was not worthy of a lord. However, it has shown me that my time here has come to an end, and that it will be better to leave before I cause any more trouble."

Melpomaen sat up.

"My lord - I do not understand. Why do you want to leave? Your family is here, and your friends. And where would you go to?"

Celeborn scratched his head, then he ran his hand through his hair.

"I will sail West. I should have done so long ago. There is no place for me here in Rivendell, I am a lord without a realm and a husband without a wife, and that is just for starters."

The young Elf listened, then he looked up.

"My lord - I think I know how you feel. It is Yuletide, is it not?" He wetted his dry lips with his tongue, and weighed his words carefully before he continued. "Yule is the time for families to gather, and it can be... hurtful to be on your own at this time of the year. There are smiling faces everywhere and... one can get lonely."

Celeborn studied the young, blushing face in front of him.

"You speak wise words for one so young. But surely this is not how you feel? You have family, and friends, and without a doubt, you will sit on Yule Eve among your loved ones, sing tunes and drink mulled wine."

Melpomaen blushed even darker.

"My family have all left for the Havens, my lord, and my sister lives in Lothlórien, and I have not seen her for a long time. And... I do not really have friends, to be honest. Master Erestor is very friendly, so is Lord Elrond, but they have their own families, so... I am usually alone on Yule Eve. Last year, I went to bed as soon as the moon rose, just to avoid sitting in my room all alone. I am not very popular, you know."

Celeborn was surprised.

"Not popular? How come?"

Melpomaen sighed.

"I talk too much. I cannot keep secrets. I am too curious and I love gossip. I cannot fight, I have not been in any battles, and nobody takes me seriously. I am not very clever, I have never been anywhere else but Rivendell, I am not very brave, and I never understand the jokes. Even Bramble could take me out in battle."

For a while, the two sat in silence.

"You know, Melpomaen - I once knew an Elf who was just like you. He was the most annoying Elfling I have ever seen. He talked without taking a break, had the wit of a fruit fly and was as clumsy as a cave troll. And when he went to battle, I feared he would be the first to fall under the enemy's sword."

Celeborn smiled, and Melpomaen stared at him, most curious to hear the end of this story.

"What happened to him? Was he slain?"

The lord laughed.

"Oh no, worse: he married my daughter."

Melpomaen's eyes grew big like saucers.

"Lord Elrond? He was the annoying Elfling?"

Celeborn giggled, and although Melpomaen thought this to be an odd sound from the lord, he liked it.

"Yes, it was Elrond. So you see - all is not lost. We all live to learn and grow, and we never stop. Certainly Elrond must see potential in you, or he would never have made you an advisor, young as you are."

The young Elf tried a small, lopsided smile.

"Do you really think so? Do you think I am of use?"

"Of course you are, penneth - be it only to make sure stubborn old Elves find their way home from the tavern."

Celeborn winked, and Melpomaen looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"So, and now I shall escort you, to your chambers that is, and there you will rest, in the morning, Elrond or Elladan will come to see after you."

"Thank you, my lord," the young advisor said, and tried to get up.

"No, no, do not try to walk. You have taken quite a blow there, I will carry you."

He picked up the young Elf, who weighed little to nothing, and walked towards the door. Melpomaen got beet red and sent a prayer to the Valar that they would not encounter anybody he knew in the corridor, who might see him being carried like some Elfling who had stubbed his toe!

On their way to Melpomaen's chamber, Celeborn asked:

"So you have never seen anywhere but Rivendell, is this true?"

"Yes, my lord." the young Elf answered, feeling incredibly stupid.

"But you are interested in far away realms?"

"Oh yes, yes! I have spent many evenings listening to Lord Glorfindel's tales, of how he killed the Balrog, and of the battles he has been in! I can never hear those stories often enough!"

Celeborn groaned.

"My dear young friend, you must be a gift from the Valar for Glorfindel, for I do not know of anybody who would willingly suffer through his tales. I have an idea: as I am alone on Yule, and you have no place to go, either, why should we not sit together, and I shall tell you tales of the old ages and their heroes?"

Melpomaen got all excited, and did not realize he was clutching at Celeborn's jerkin.

"You mean - Yule? You and I? You would tell me stories? Really?"

"Yes, really. I will tell you of battles and wars, and you will tell me of... taxes... treaties... Elrond's thimble collection... well, whatever it is that keeps a young advisor busy."

"That would be wonderful," Melpomaen sighed, forgetting his black eye and bruised cheek.

"So we have an agreement?" Celeborn asked.

"Aye, we have!" the young Elf said, and gave Celeborn his happiest smile.

"Fine then. So I will tell you how the story of the Balrog and Glorfindel really was - he tends to leave out some details, you know."

Melpomaen grinned, and for the first time in many years, he was really looking forward to Yule Eve.

* * *

**"Yuletide is well-liked among Elves, Dwarves and men  
so without further ado, comes day number ten."**


	10. DAY 10: "Presents and presence"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"'t was the tenth day of Yule, and it's a difficult thing  
to shop for a lady who has everything"**

Mauburz watched Rúmil with great amusement while she polished the shelves with walnut oil. For over an hour already he had been rummaging through oils, perfumes, soaps and hair tonic, picking one bottle up, pushing another aside, reading a label here and sniffing at a perfumed powder there. In between, he was sighing, and finally, Mauburz thought he had suffered enough, and stepped to his side, putting her large paw on his shoulder.

"Nice brother of Haldir has never come here before, and now stands here looking like Sauron after lost battle. Can help you? What is Rúmil looking for? Comb for Haldir? Muzzle for Rabbit?"

Rúmil sighed again, and raked both hands through his hair, forcing a smile to show he knew the Orc was joking.

"Ai, Mistress Mauburz, if only it was so simple. I am looking for a Yule present for a person who has everything..."

"Female person or male person?" Mauburz asked, and Rúmil murmured "female". The Orc giggled upon seeing the warrior blush, and scratched her head.

"Female persons difficult to shop for. Never happy, always want other thing than they get, and come and exchange and make mess. Could give her stuffed Warg head, looks nice on wall."

Rúmil imagined how Galadriel's face would look when she unwrapped a stuffed Warg head on Yule Eve, and shuddered. It was bad enough that she could read his thoughts and probably knew that he still had no present for her, but a Warg head – no. Just – no.

"I do not think the lady would appreciate such a gift, lovely as it might be," he said diplomatically.

Mauburz snorted. "Then she is stoopid Elf. You could make yourself present, with bow around little Elf, how like that?"

Rúmil stared at the Orc, and Mauburz grinned, happy that she had confused the Elf.

"I beg your pardon, Mistress Mauburz? I think I did not understand you well..." he stuttered, and she rubbed her hands.

"No, no, nice brother of Haldir did understand right. You could put yourself under Yule tree, wearing only bow. Is nice idea. Is what nice lord Orophin will get from nice lord Elladan."

Rúmil groaned.

"This is – too much information, Mistress Mauburz. And I dare not ask where you got it from."

A smug smile answered his question, and he decided to return his attention to the goods on display.

At that very moment, Lindir entered the shop. Unlike the minstrel with the same name, this lovely young Elf had grown up with an overprotective mother who had kept him away from the realities of life for millennia, so while he was about the same age as the twins, he had the mind of an Elfling. Despite lengthy explanations from both Erestor and Glorfindel he still firmly believed that babies were placed under Mallorn trees by Yavanna, and he knew every single fairytale in his "Nana Goose" books by heart.

Had he lived in any other place but Rivendell, people would have looked at him as an oddity, but here, he definitely had to be counted among the more sensible part of the population.

Right now, he looked very excited, his blue eyes sparkled, and he held up his favourite toy, a cuddly Nana-Goose-doll.

"Miss Mauburz, Miss Mauburz, look what I got for Yule!" he called from the door, and quickly walked over to the Orc, who reached up for the cookie jar to welcome her special friend with a treat.

"You got new doll?" she asked, and Lindir laughed, shaking his head, sending his braids flying.

"No, no – look! Miss Goose got a new outfit for Yule! Miss Arwen has sewn it!"

Mauburz took the toy in her large paws, and admired the red velvet bonnet, cloak and silk shirt of the goose as much as her Orcish sense of aesthetics allowed.

"Very nice, elegant, looks like Lady Galadriel," she grinned, eyeing Rúmil, who swallowed down a comment on this insult. Lindir turned around, saw the Galadhrim and ran now in his direction.

"Mr Rúmil! Have you seen Miss Goose's new outfit?"

Rúmil had a snarky remark on his tongue, but when he saw Lindir's shining eyes and his happy smile, he didn't have the heart to ruin the day of Arda's oldest Elfling, and said: "Indeed, these are garments fitting for a noble lady. You must be very proud."

Lindir nodded, gave Rúmil a quick kiss on the cheek and returned to Mauburz, who had watched the scene with great amusement.

"What does nice Elfling Lindir want?" she asked, and Lindir blushed.

"Oh, I do not really know, Miss Mauburz. I am looking for a Yule present for Mr Faramir, for he was very friendly and showed me how to imitate bird calls."

Mauburz cocked an eyebrow. Now look at this, she thought, is young Lindir finally growing up?

"You could give nice Master Faramir tobacco for Yule," she suggested, but Lindir shook his head.

"No, he does not smoke. He said smoking would be harmful, and Mr Gandalf said this was nonsense, and they argued, and he insisted, and nice Mr Gandalf said he would put his pipe somewhere dark where the sun does not shine if Mr Faramir would not stop it, and then I do not know what happened, for Master Erestor held his hands over my ears. Where does the sun not shine, Miss Mauburz?"

Rúmil pressed his hand over his mouth to keep himself from howling, and Mauburz had the same problem.

"Must have talked about Mordor, Lindir. So no tobacco. Maybe soap?"

Lindir looked at her, all righteous indignation.

"Mr Faramir does not need soap, he is not dirty!"

Mauburz shrugged.

"So Lindir has no idea what to give Master Faramir?"

"Oh, I did have an idea," Lindir said, shuffled his feet and blushed again. "But Master Erestor said it was the wrong present, and Mr Faramir would maybe not like it."

"What present?" Mauburz asked.

"I wanted to give him my favourite Nana Goose book, because," and here he blushed even more, "he is my bestest friend."

A warm, large hand came to rest on Lindir's arm, and when he looked up, he saw the smiling face of Glorfindel.

"Dear, dear Lindir," he said, "while my beloved scroll-shuffler might be right most of the time: in this case, he was wrong. It is not important what we give as a present, but why. You want to give Mr Faramir your book because you like him a lot, you are willing to give away something that has a great meaning to you, and with that, you honour him. This will be the greatest present of all for him, and if I judge him correctly, he will appreciate this gift very much."

Lindir beamed up at the warrior, getting all excited.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Mr Glorfindel! Then I will go to Miss Arwen now and ask her to help me wrap the book! And you are sure Mr Faramir will like it?"

"Absolutely sure," Glorfindel said, stroking the younger Elf's head.

Lindir jumped up and down, then he held Miss Goose right in front of Glorfindel's nose.

"Look, Mr Glorfindel, Miss Goose has a new outfit! Does she not look splendid?"

Glorfindel, who had to hold long conversations with Estorel's hobbit doll just to keep his son happy, took one of Miss Goose's red-clad wings, and pressed a kiss on it.

"You are looking most charming today, Lady Goose. If I was not already bonded to the lovely Erestor, I would give you my heart right away."

Lindir squeaked with delight, then he ran out of the door, waving everybody goodbye, and disappeared in the direction of the Last Homely House, without a doubt to visit Arwen and get his present for Faramir ready.

"A lovely child," Glorfindel remarked, and Mauburz nodded. "Lovely old child," she said, "should already be married and have six Elflings by now. Stoopid Lindir-nana."

Glorfindel smiled.

"Ai, Mistress Mauburz – in time, this heart also will find a key and be unlocked. We are Elves, we have all the time in Arda. And now I need a salve for bruises, Estorel has managed to throw one of Erestor's shelves over and one of the books hit his head."

Mauburz climbed up on a chair and took the article from a shelf, put it in front of Lord Glorfindel, and took the coins. Then she opened the cookie jar.

"Here, take cookie for nice young Estorel, Lord Glorfindel," she said, and Fin thanked her.

"Wonderful, he has already run out of food to make a mess with!" he laughed, waving Rúmil good-bye as he left the shop.

"I guess I shall leave now, too," the Galadhrim said, "I have not found what I was looking for."

He headed for the door, and ran right into Celeborn. Neither of the two Elves spoke, they stood almost nose to nose, and though Rúmil blushed, he did not avoid the Lord's look.

The Galadhrim bowed his head, and said: "Mae govannen, my lord. I am most sorry, I was not looking where I was going."

Celeborn studied the Elf in front of him. 'Yes,' he thought, 'you are of my blood, you are fair and know no fear, and you caught the heart of the fairest one of all.' Alas, the secret pride he felt vanished quickly when he remembered at whose cost Rúmil had won the fairest heart in question.

"Nice lord Celeborn, not kill nice brother of Haldir in here. Have just swept floor, no make mess. If want to kill him, do outside, and use hands, not sword."

Both Elves stared at the Orc, not sure whether she was jesting or not. Finally, Celeborn grabbed Rúmil's arm and dragged him into a corner, out of the Orc's hearing – at least this was what he thought.

"Rúmil – I know that this is the wrong place and the wrong time, but as you have been avoiding me for weeks now, I must take this opportunity to ask: are the rumours I hear true?"

The younger Elf swallowed hard – so this was the moment of truth. He had feared it. All along, he had been torn between his love for the lady and his loyalty to the lord, and he didn't know how he should explain the situation to Celeborn. At least his lord did not look angry, only concerned. For a moment, he considered playing games and asking 'what rumours' or something equally ridiculous, but the respect he felt for the Elf in front of him forbade it, so he decided to be honest.

"If those rumours say that I love the Lady Galadriel, then aye, they are true. If they say that I have betrayed my lord, then no, these rumours are not true."

Celeborn nodded.

"Is your love true, Rúmil? Is it the she-elf you love, or the lady of the Golden Wood? Is it the power and the wealth, or her beautiful heart and soul? Answer truthfully, for I will know if you should lie."

Rúmil didn't waver.

"I love her for the precious being she is. Nothing else holds interest for me. If you ask me whether my love is returned, then I cannot answer you, my lord, for only she knows the answer. I would give my life for her without even thinking."

The lord sighed.

"I gave her free long ago, Rúmil; she is free to go her own ways, as am I. Love can change over the ages. While I do not wish to spend my life with her any more, I would not tolerate seeing her hurt. She has suffered enough, and I am afraid that I was more often the cause of her pain than her happiness. Are you aware of what you get yourself into, Rúmil? Will you be there for her when she cries for our lost child, when darkness comes over her mind and she wanders through the woods without knowing who she is or where she goes? Can you bear this?"

The younger Elf's eyes were glittering.

"Aye, my lord. I can and I would. I know all about suffering and grief, I have mourned my brothers, my mother, my father. But I am strong! I can help her carry her burden!"

Celeborn gently touched the cheek of the other Elf.

"Your father would be very proud of you, young Rúmil," he said, "and now leave, it pains me to see you this moment, but note well: you have my blessing, and I do not wish you any ill."

Rúmil, who had expected anything from a duel to a fit of hysterics from his lord, was thunderstruck by this noble acceptance, nodded, and quickly left the shop, thereby sparing himself the humiliation of crying in front of his lord.

Celeborn stood motionless for quite a while, realizing that he had cut the last ties to his old life. This had not been an easy step, and was one he had feared for so long – to let go, to finally let go.

He sighed deeply, and then he saw the box on the counter. It contained an assortment of jewellery; rings, combs, necklaces – not valuable things, but pretty to look at. One hair clasp caught his eye – it was carved out of amber, shaped like a flying bird, and something about it caught his attention. It was delicate, of a warm brown colour, and it reminded him of something. For the fraction of a second, he remembered rich, brown hair, feeling like silk, spread over a cushion – but the moment was over very quickly.

"I would like this clasp, Mistress Mauburz," he said, and the Orc opened the glass lid of the box, took out the fragile item and wrapped it in soft, white silk.

Celeborn had no idea why he bought it – but somehow, it felt right.

* * *

**"Day eleven comes soon, and Yule Eve is near  
As well as some trouble, dear readers, I fear..."**


	11. DAY 11: "Brother, my brother"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"'t was the eleventh day of Yule, and it would be wise  
if Thrandúil prepared for a big surprise.**

There were three ways for travellers to tell when they were approaching Mirkwood:

\- The drop in temperature  
\- The lack of fellow travellers  
\- The road signs telling them to go home

Amaris stopped his horse and studied the 7th sign he had passed so far, which told those who travelled this road in brief words that they were not welcome beyond this point, and sighed.

"Welcome to Mirkwood," he said, "the heart and soul of Middle Earth."

His horse seemed to agree, and shook his head.

"Well, dear friend, at least the manufacturers of signs must have prospered under my brother's reign. What do you think, are there trap doors further down the road?"

If the horse had been able to shrug, he would have done so, and it took many kind words from Amaris to convince the animal to move forwards.

Amaris had ridden for about fifteen minutes, and already he was surrounded by dark, ancient trees, standing so close together that sunlight did not manage to reach the ground, and the birds had ceased their singing.

He was just about to make another remark about sunny Mirkwood to his horse when, seemingly out of nowhere, five Elves dropped out of the trees, landing in front of him, without making a noise or leaving a mark in the snow. Their arrows were not aimed at his person, but there could be no doubt that any wrong move could have fatal consequences; being one of them, he knew better than to underestimate the archers or Mirkwood.

A young Elf stepped forward. He wore a woollen cloak and an old, much-mended jerkin, and he bowed to Amaris in greeting.

"Greetings, stranger. You have entered the kingdom of Mirkwood, so I assume you are not able to read, for you must have come across many signs telling you to stay away. Who are you, what are you doing here, and what are you staring at?"

Amaris cocked an eyebrow.

"I am well able to read, I just prefer to ignore the written evidence of your father's sunny personality, I am here to annoy him and I am staring at the twig which has caught in one of your braids, though the smudge on your nose looks more interesting; one hardly gets to see a scruffy Elf these days. Is there anything else you would like to know, Legolas?"

The jaw of the young warrior dropped at this bold speech, and he quickly reached into his tangled hair - indeed, the twig must have gotten stuck there while he had crawled through some bramble bushes the previous day. How embarrassing.

Legolas quickly removed the offending bit of shrubbery and threw a warning glance at his companions, who had problems stifling their giggles.

"Amaris of Mirkwood, eh?" he snorted, and glared at the fair Elf in front of him, who looked neat, clean and elegant despite his simple garb, hair shining like spun gold cascading down his back.

"I am most pleased to see that you have such an excellent memory, penneth. For this means that you will probably remember the way back to your father's palace and can accompany me there. I have ridden a long time, I am tired, and in need of a bad, food and insults from your father. I am sure that at least the last of these can be provided without difficulty, so how about you lead the way, fair leaf, and I shall follow you?"

Legolas was torn between amusement and outrage. Never, on all his travels, had he met an Elf like this one. The other Elf obviously hadn't seen more than two centuries, and there he was, calling him, Legolas, who was three thousand years old, "little one"?

"Let me see, Amaris," Legolas said, and began to count on his fingers. "I do not know you. But you seem to know me. None of my friends here know you. You are cheeky, annoying and a smart-ear, and you think you can simply ride into Mirkwood out of the blue and see my father, who refuses to welcome even Lords and Kings?"

Amaris looked at his nephew, considered the question for a moment, then he nodded.

"As a matter of fact - yes. Can we go now?"

Legolas slapped his forehead with his hand. He did not know about food or bed, but there was one thing this Elf would certainly get from his ada, and that was insult. Personally, he couldn't wait to see it, so he nodded to his companions, and turned around.

"Very well then, let us go. Make sure you do not fall off your pretty horse, Amaris, or the spiders will have you for luncheon."

"I am touched by your care, Legolas - and by the way, you have a twig in the other braid, too."

With that, he clicked his tongue, and the horse moved forward, so all Legolas and his guards could do was following their unwelcome guest, who had the bleeding gall to begin to sing now.

Legolas, who tried to keep up with the rider, thought of his father, and a big grin spread over his face.

This, he decided, was going to be great fun.

* * *

His Royal Highness, Thrandúil the Exceptional and Impressive, Beloved and Much Admired King, Most Splendid and Feared Ruler of Mirkwood, King by the Valar's Grace, Ruler of 2000 Years, Shining Star of Greenwood The Green, Fairest of all Elven Lords, Light of the Dark Ages, Son of Oropher the magnificent, etc. etc. etc., was sitting in front of the fireplace in his private chambers, in the midst of holly, berries, twigs of spruce and dried apples. The tip of his tongue firmly pressed into the left corner of his mouth, he carefully fixed some berries to his crown.

This was one of the things he loved most about Yuletide - that he got to wear his favourite crown, and one he could adorn himself. Sure, circlets were nice and looked fair, but this one reminded him of his childhood, when he sat with his parents and siblings, and he had the honour of decorating the crown for his ada. He was very young back then, and his fingers none too skilled, but his older brother always helped him, without making him feel inadequate, and those were among the best hours of his youth, which he always remembered fondly.

Unfortunately, his own son showed no artistic skills at all. He was a warrior and hunter, and the few times he had attempted to engage Legolas' interest in the arts had ended in fits of temper, sulking and pouting, so after a while, he had given up. He loved his young one, regarded him as a diamond in the rough, and was enormously proud of his achievements as a member of the Fellowship of the Nine, saving Middle Earth from certain doom. He had gnashed his teeth when Legolas had dragged a dwarf along two years ago as a guest of honour at the Yule celebrations, but accepted it. He had found Gimli to be wise and amusing, though he would have died rather than admit it, and he had even held his temper when the dwarf had smugly asked for a sightseeing tour through the dungeons his father had told him so much about.

But these were Yuletides past, now he had to get this crown finished, and was rather annoyed when he heard the knock on his door, heralding an interruption.

"Come in if you must," he grumbled, and a breeze of cold air told him that his visitor had entered, so he didn't bother to look up - he would have known these steps among a thousand others.

"Legolas - I did not expect you to return this early. Is anything amiss?"

Thrandúil bit off the end of the thread and spat it into the fire, which produced a hissing sound.

"Eh - I have found something odd in the woods, ada, and now I am not sure what to do with it."

Thrandúil looked up, noticed the smudge on Legolas' nose, the tear in his breeches just above his left knee and the unkempt hair, and he released a deep sigh.

"Please do not tell me that you have found another abandoned Warg pup or baby spider, Legolas. And whatever it is: no, you may not keep it."

Legolas frowned.

"I have never brought a Warg home, ada!" he protested, and Thrandúil nodded, fighting with a stubborn piece of shrubbery.

"That is true, my apologies, son. The Warg brought you home. But I am very busy, as you can see, so pray tell: what is the matter?"

"There is this - Elf, ada," Legolas said, and Thrandúil noticed well how his son stretched the last word, "we found him on the road to the palace, and he insisted on being brought to you. What shall we do?"

Thrandúil rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"Oh for the Forest Spirit's sake, Legolas - do what we always do, scare him, insult him and throw him out of my realm. I do not wish to have strangers around here, trampling my daisies and stealing my time."

Legolas shuffled his feet.

"Well, this is not a normal traveller. He seems to know a lot about us, and he is very annoying. He says his name is Amaris, and..."

"Amaris?" Thrandúil interrupted his son, and the young Elf was a little taken aback by the sharp tone in his father's voice.

"Yes," he replied, "he said he was from Mirkwood, but this cannot be true, I know every Elf around here, and I have never seen him."

Thrandúil's head began to hurt. Just moments ago, he had thought about his brother, who had died so long ago - another one on this damnable Gil-galad's list of victims - and now there was this stranger going by the same name? What was this - National Thrandúil Annoyment Day?

But it was Yule, and the wine which warmed over the low fire in a big kettle spread its wonderful spicy scent all through the chamber, and the strings on the corset which held Thrandúil's heart firmly in place were loosened up a little, so he shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"Very well then, bring this Elf here, but stay outside, and if I call you, come and remove him, or I will never finish this in time."

Legolas was a little surprised at his father's reaction, but he new better than to question him, so he went outside, and Thrandúil heard him bark some commands. Again, the door opened, and light steps could be heard - a sound that reminded Thrandúil of something, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was, so he looked up.

"It is very good to see you again, little leaf."

One could have mistaken the King of Mirkwood at that moment for a marble statue, for he surely looked as if he had turned to stone. His mouth was slightly agape, his eyes stared at the Elf in front of him, and he didn't move a muscle.

"Close your mouth, Thrandúil, it is most unbecoming to your otherwise most fair face."

Amaris dropped his cloak, sat down elegantly on it, and looked with interest at the crown Thrandúil held in his unmoving fingers.

This, the King of Mirkwood decided, had to be some kind of dream, or the Forest Spirits were playing tricks on him, or he had drunk too much of the mulled 2948 2nd Ager.

This couldn't be Amaris, for Amaris was dead. Amaris was very dead, and Thrandúil remembered well the double pain of losing both his father and his beloved brother - a brother who had, despite his young years, shown great wisdom and wit, had opposed the stern ways of their father in every possible way and who had published a book of frivolous and most delicate content called "Mirkwood Love Secrets", almost causing King Oropher a heart attack.

No - this could not be Amaris, who had been banned from his home when he decided to follow Gil-galad into battle, who had left his family out of some foolhardy hero-worship, who had chosen the High King over his family, leaving his brother behind, alone and crying.

It could not be Amaris.

But it was. It was the same much-beloved face, the mocking voice, the sweet scent of freshly crushed mint-leaves, the long, elegant fingers.

Had he returned? Was this possible?

Thrandúil looked directly into the other Elf's eyes. Amaris returned the look, and Thrandúil saw sorrow, pain, loneliness - but also love, warmth - and fear? Was it fear?

For a moment which seemed to last an eternity, Thrandúil held his breath. Then he reached out two trembling hands, offering Amaris both the half-finished crown and a twig with berries.

"I cannot fix them. Can you help me?"

Amaris took both items, not breaking eye contact with his younger brother.

"Of course I can, little leaf. There is nothing that cannot be fixed."

Thrandúil watched how Amaris' nimble fingers attached the berries to the crown, and he also saw how the tip of his brother's tongue was firmly pressed into a corner of his mouth.

He hesitated for a moment, then he reached out, caressing Amaris' cheek, and his brother looked up, giving him his warmest and most brilliant smile.

"You are right, Amaris - there is nothing that cannot be fixed."

And then they finished the crown together.

* * *

**The twelfth day of Yule - it's now very near  
and brings all back who we hold so dear."**


	12. DAY 12, part 1: "Finders - Keepers"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"It is the 12th day of Yule - and it sure looks to me  
like there's an addition to the family..."**

Elrond was cold.

This was odd - most of the time, the lord of Imladris slept wrapped in five or six heavy blankets, cocooned like a caterpillar, hardly showing the tips of his ears.

This morning, however, he was cold, and when he woke up, he realized immediately the reason: all his blankets were gone. Where to? He rolled on his side, and knew the answer: Gil-galad. His royal highness had wrapped two of the blankets around his hips, another he was clutching to his chest, and two more he was lying on. This left Elrond with nothing but the cold morning breeze to cover him.

The Half-elf grumbled, and tried to snatch at least two of the blankets back, but Gil had a rather firm grip on the fabric, and no matter how much Elrond tugged and tore, he would not let go. Finally, he woke up from Elrond's efforts, blinked and grinned.

"My, my, dear Elrond - so eager? This early in the morning?"

Elrond snorted.

"It is cold. I am freezing. And you hog all the blankets."

Gil yawned and stretched his arms, looking like a large and very lazy cat.

"Now did I? Evil me. Well, if you want your blankets, why do you not take them?"

"Because," Elrond hissed, giving another tug, "you. Are. Lying. On. Them."

Gil wriggled.

"I am? Indeed - and they are very comfortable. My compliments, the quality of your bed covers is extraordinary."

"Gil!" Elrond howled, "it is cold! I am freezing! Will you PLEASE give me my blankets back? You are a full Elf, you can sleep in the snow without getting cold! You do not need them!"

His royal highness laughed like a hyena, and rolled on his stomach.

"My, now who would have thought that we have our first argument over blankets! But alright, I do not want you to suffer. Come here, you poor, neglected, frozen Peredhel."

With that, he grabbed Elrond around the middle and drew him close, hugging him tight and rubbing his arms.

"There - see? Better already. Now stop complaining about a couple of blankets, you silly Elf. I will keep you warm."

Elrond still grumbled, but in a lower voice, and he snuggled as close to Gil as possible.

"Nice - it is a pity we will have to get up soon," Gil sighed, idly stroking Elrond's back.

"Yes - it is Yule," Elrond said, "big celebrations, a lot of work."

"Do you think there is still time for a little unscheduled social interaction before we get up?" Gil asked, and his hands wandered lower.

"I do not know. Ask Erestor, he knows my agenda," Elrond grinned.

"Ah, I am sure he does know yours, but he does not know mine, beloved," Gil replied, "and my agenda tells me that I need some tender, loving care now."

"You?" Elrond asked, interrupted by an enthusiastic kiss from his lover, "You stole my blankets! You do not deserve tender, loving care!"

"I do not?" Gil asked and made moo-eyes. "Any chance we could negotiate a treaty?"

"No way," Elrond answered in a stern voice, "stealing blankets from the Lord of Imladris is one of the most horrible offences, so if anybody here deserves tender, loving care then it is me."

"Ah!" Gil grinned, "So you think you will have a good time while I do all the work, is that it?"

"Of course," Elrond replied, grinning smugly, "after all, I am the lord around here, and it is only normal I get served."

"Oh, I will serve you, Elrond," Gil snickered, rolling on top of his lover, "on a plate, with parsley in your ears, an apple in your mouth and garnished with some mint sauce!"

With that, he began to tickle Elrond, who howled and giggled like an Elfling, and the servants who passed the door of the lord's chambers looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Stop it stop it stop it!" Elrond gasped, trying to roll Gil off, "I give up! I am willing to negotiate!"

"Are you? Good," Gil grinned, and stopped attacking Elrond's ribs. "Let me hear your offer, so I can decide if you are deserving of my mercy."

Elrond gasped for his breath, and coughed.

"I have an offer you will not be able to refuse, Gil."

"I am listening," the warrior said, his fingers still dangerously close to Elrond's ticklish spots.

"I accept the parsley and the apple," Elrond giggled, "but I insist you drop the mint sauce."

"But why," Gil whined, "I like mint-sauce, especially when you are covered in it."

"This might be," Elrond said, "but I insist that I am served with mashed pumpkin."

The fighting, giggling and squealing that followed this remark caused so much noise that Gandalf, who stood with Melpomaen in the library, discussing a certain book, looked up and asked the young advisor if there were wild boar roaming free in the corridors above.

Melpomaen shrugged.

"No. We only have wild pumpkins."

Gandalf was a wise wizard, so he decided not to pursue this matter any further.

Some things were better left unexplained.

* * *

"This," Orophin said, "is an amazing horse."

The guards standing around him nodded, admiring the beautiful white steed who was prancing nervously. A strong horse, elegant, very proud - and not an Elven one. The small troop of riders from Rohan who had arrived only half an hour ago grinned with pride, for this horse came directly out of their king's stable, and to hear the arrogant pointy-ears go all mushy over one of their horses made them feel at least 7 feet tall.

"Aye, that's one of the best horses we have," Hamu, their captain said, and took another swig of the ale that Orophin had ordered for the men.

Orophin looked the horse up and down, then he rubbed his chin.

"And you say this horse is a present?" he asked, making sure he did not misunderstand.

"Aye, my lord - here is the letter to go with it. Read for yourself."

He handed Orophin a folded piece of parchment, and the Lórien Elf read the note carefully. While he spoke Westron fluently and without an accent, as this had been the first language he ever learnt, reading the common tongue was another thing altogether, so it took him some time to make sense of the message.

Finally, he folded the paper back together.

"I thank you for escorting the - present to Lord Elrond's courts, Hamu. I hope you and your men will do us the honour of being our guests for this night's Yule celebrations."

"That is mighty fine of you, thanks!" the man called out, and bowed in front of Orophin. "We know that this is a great honour, and we will behave."

"Do not behave too much," Orophin grinned, "or everybody will know that you are strangers."

All present men and Elves broke out in laughter, and so it took them some time to notice Haldir, who had entered the stable.

"Orophin? Could you come with me, please?" he said, a little out of breath. "We have a bit of a situation on the western border and need your help."

Orophin nodded, mounted his horse and followed Haldir down the path which lead over the bridge into the western forest.

"Was there an incident?" he asked, and Haldir nodded.

"Yes - there is an intruder. We found him hiding on one of the watch flets - you know, the ones we only use in summer."

Orophin frowned.

"Is he armed?"

Haldir shook his head.

"No - no, I do not think so."

"So why is there a problem?"

Haldir shrugged, and there was an odd expression on his face.

"The problem is - well, you will see for yourself. Here we are, anyway."

They had reached a small clearing, and both Elves halted and got off their horses. Six of the Rivendell guards stood gathered around a tree, craning their necks. Orophin and Haldir made their way through the snow.

"So, what dangerous beast is it that lurks up there?" Orophin asked, and he was a little surprised to see that none of the guards held a weapon. Whoever the intruder was - he couldn't be dangerous, then.

Melas, one of the guards, scratched his head.

"My lord, me and Lord Glorfindel found him an hour ago. His lordship has returned to the Last Homely House to discuss the situation with Lord Elrond, and told me to send for Haldir."

Orophin tapped his foot.

"Is there any chance that I will be told WHO was found, or must I climb the tree myself to find out?" he asked.

Haldir grinned.

"As a matter of fact - yes, that was my idea. It is a very dangerous beast, Orophin, and a breed I know that you have mastered many times before already. So you may give me your sword now, it will make climbing easier, and you will not need a weapon."

Orophin sighed, then he ungirded his sword and passed it to Haldir. The Rivendell guardians once again stood in awe and admiration of the skills the Lórien Elf showed when it came to climbing trees. Like a squirrel he made his way from branch to branch, and it seemed almost as if his fingers were glued to the bark, finding hold where there was none, and soon enough, Orophin had reached the flet.

It was dark up here, the sides nailed closed with planks to keep the place safe from decay until spring time. And it was cold - an icy breeze blew. Why anybody would chose to come up here, he didn't know.

He spotted a small bundle of rags in a corner, and only when the bundle moved, did he realize what it was: a child.

"What are you doing here?" Orophin asked, making his voice friendly and softly, so as not to scare the child, but there came no answer.

"Do not be afraid, penneth - I mean you no harm."

He was now on hands and knees, for he knew that children were easily intimidated by people taller than them, and moved closer to the child, who whimpered and pressed himself further into the corner.

"My name is Orophin, and I live around here. Do you not want to tell me your name, little one?"

For a while, there was no answer, just the rustling of the rags and suppressed sobs. Finally, a tiny, muffled voice could be heard.

"E-eldanar."

"Ah," Orophin said, "that is a beautiful name. Now, Eldanar, as we have been properly introduced, do you not think it would be easier and more comfortable to continue our conversation at home, where it is warm?"

"Got no home," the child said, and sobbed again. He spoke the language of the Elves, but with an odd accent to it which Orophin couldn't place.

"That is sad," he said, and knelt on the ground, opening his arms, to show the child that he had no weapons.

"Now, I do have a home, and everybody there is busy with the preparations for Yule. I would be honoured if you would accept my invitation to join in our celebrations. Be a guest in my home till you have found one of your own," Orophin said, and added silently, 'or till we have found your parents'.

For a while, nothing happened, then a small head appeared from the rags. Very dirty hair, probably blond when washed, large blue eyes in a narrow face covered in smudges and dirt. Two arms followed, painfully thin arms, and then the boy quickly covered his ears with his hands.

"I cannot come", he whispered, "I am ugly. People do not like to see me."

"Ugly?" Orophin said, and cocked an eyebrow. "You are not ugly - who says such a thing? You are a beautiful little Elfling."

"You are beautiful," the boy said, "you look like my ada. My ada had also long silver hair, and he wore shiny armour when he went to war."

"So your ada was a warrior then?" Orophin asked, and secretly wondered how in Elbereth's name the child of an Elven warrior came to sit here on a flet in Rivendell.

The boy seemed to think about it.

"He went to get a helm," he said, "and never came back."

"To get a helm?" Orophin asked, puzzled.

"Yes, nana said he went to helm."

Orophin felt sad - 'to helm'. Helm's Deep. Eldanar's ada had gone to Helm's Deep. Considering the few Elven warriors who had survived the battle, it was very likely that this boy was an orphan, or had been separated from his nana for some reason.

But there would be time later to sort out this puzzle; now it was important to get the child on the ground and into the warmth.

"So, what do you say, Eldanar - do you accept my invitation? We have an excellent chef in the Last Homely House, penneth. Somebody will have to help us to eat all the cake."

The eyes of the child got even larger.

"Cake? You have cake?" he asked, and Orophin smiled.

"Yes - and that is not all we have."

The little one moved a little closer, dropping the rags which obviously had once been a cloak or a blanket, and Orophin could get a better look at the boy. He couldn't be older than 30, he was dirty, there was a bruise on his cheek and he shivered. This was a little odd - an Elf who was shivering from the cold?

By now, Haldir had appeared on the flet as well, and crouched down beside Orophin.

"Do you like Elflings?" the boy asked, and looked hopefully at the two beautiful Elves in front of him.

"Oh yes, I like Elflings very much. I am the guardian of an Elfling, you know," Orophin said.

"A guardian? Oh! Is he a nice Elfling?"

"A very nice Elfling. His name is Estorel. I am sure you would like him."

"Do you have your own Elfling, too?" the boy asked.

Before Orophin could answer, he felt Haldir's hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

"Yes," the younger Elf said, "he does have an Elfling. He is my ada, you know, and he is the best ada any Elfling could have. So why not come with us, little one?"

Orophin turned around, and looked at Haldir, who had a shy smile on his face. He quickly touched his son's hand, and smiled back.

"You are a big Elfling," Eldanar said, still keeping his hands over his ears.

"This is all thanks to the excellent chef that my ada just mentioned," Haldir said, and grinned.

Eldanar dared a small smile, too, revealing a gap in his teeth.

"Can I stay? If I come with you, will you keep me? I do not eat much, and I can help in the stable, but do not send me out again, will you?"

Orophin shook his head.

"You can stay here as long as you want, little one, do not worry. We will not send you away."

The boy got up, which was a little difficult as he couldn't use his hands, and finally stood in front of the two Elves, who took in the pitiful sight with both sadness and anger.

Orophin took off his warm cloak, and wrapped it around the boy's shoulders.

"Eldanar, please take your hands down, or I cannot wrap the cloak around you. It is cold outside, and you need to get warm."

The boy sobbed, and finally, he dropped his hands.

"Now you will send me away," he cried, and wiped his tears off with his sleeve, "see, I told you that I am ugly!"

Orophin and Haldir both stared at the boy.

"Eldanar - I really do not know what you are talking about. You are a perfectly lovely Elfling, there is nothing wrong with you." Haldir said, and the boy sniffled.

"Yes! There is! Look at my ears!" he cried, and the Elves obeyed, inspecting two cute, small ears - human ears. Not pointed ones, no - these ears were rounded.

"Are you a mortal child, Eldanar? But you have an Elven name, how come?" Haldir asked, and now the child cried even more.

"My ada was an Elf but my nana was not, and now I have these ugly ears and do not look like an Elf, and my nana does not want me anymore because she wants a beautiful Elfling not something like me! When my ada did not come back she told me to go away, she had no money to feed me and my sister. Idril is my sister, and she is a baby, and she has the right ears! And now you will send me away, too!"

With that, the boy really began to cry in earnest, and Orophin mentally strangled the child's unknown mother. He wrapped Eldanar tightly in the cloak, picked him up and hugged him close to his chest.

"Eldanar - do you hear with your ears?" he asked, and a muffled "yes" was heard from inside the cloak.

"Very well then, in this respect, your ears are just as good as mine, and I assure you, they look perfectly fine to me."

Haldir stroked the child's dirty hair.

"Do not cry, Eldanar - see, my nana was a mortal, too! That is the reason I am a bit shorter than the other Elves, but nobody teases me about it. And the Lord Elrond, he is a Peredhel, too, and Orophin's husband, Elladan. So you see, you are in perfect company here."

Eldanar peaked out of the warm cloth, and stared at Orophin with big eyes.

"Is this true?" he asked, and Orophin nodded.

"Yes, it is true - and you will see that the ears of my husband are less pointy than mine, but I love him more than my life. It is not about the ears, Eldanar - it is about the heart. So, and now we will leave this place - try to take a firm hold of my neck, little one. I do not want you to fall from the tree."

Carefully Orophin climbed down the tree, making sure the child was resting safely in his left arm while he tried to find his way with his right. Eldanar clung to the Galadhrim like a little monkey, and Haldir followed close behind, a deep frown on his face.

What an ugly story. Mortals thought Elves to be "fair beyond measure", and some of them coveted this beauty for their offspring, so they courted Elves, and sometimes, their courting was successful. Not that Haldir felt it was wrong for Mortals to bond with Elves, but the reasons should be the right ones, and he did not think that having beautiful children was reason enough to enter a marriage. So there were quite a few Elflings who had been abandoned by their mortal mother or father because the human heritage prevailed over the Elven one, resulting in mortal children. And there were also cases where Elven fathers had deserted their children, afraid of admitting to their families that they had bedded a mortal woman.

Orophin - and Haldir was absolutely sure of this - would never have deserted him or his mother if he had known of his existence, and a new, stronger love for the other Elf grew in his heart. What he had said before to Eldanar had been the truth - Orophin was the best father he could have, and a new, wonderful realisation dawned on Haldir: he was proud to be Orophin's son.

* * *

**"This Yule morning was an exciting thing,  
one wonders what the evening will bring." **


	13. DAY 12, part 2: "Losers - Weepers"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This series contains bits and pieces which belong in the "Knave" universe and lead on to the sequel, "Finding Námo".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

**"The last part, dear readers, is finally here,  
have my love, and good wishes, for the upcoming year!"**

"Elrond said you should rest, Erestor - and one should think that you, as one who can read dwarfish cookery recipes and poems in Westron, would be able to understand the meaning of the word 'rest' in your own language!" Glorfindel barked, his face red with anger.

Erestor, who sat in a bed covered with books, scrolls, letters and files, batted his lashes at his husband.

"But Fin - I am resting! See? You told me to stay in bed, and I AM staying in bed."

"Yes - indeed, and your little scroll-shuffler here brings all the stress, the worries and letters into your bed chamber. Now really, Melpomaen - I would have thought you had more sense."

The young advisor shrunk under Glorfindel's anger, and Erestor felt pity for him.

"Fin - do not take it out on Melpomaen. I asked him to bring me these documents, for as much as I am enjoying the rest, there are a million things to do, and I..."

"Enough!" Glorfindel said, cutting off Erestor's speech with a sharp gesture of his hand. Then he collected all the scrolls, books and other items and loaded them into Melpomaen's arms; the poor young Elf could hardly see anything anymore from under his load.

"Thank you for bringing these along, Melpomaen, and now take them back where they came from, and you had best stay there, too," Fin growled, and the young advisor made for the door as fast as he could.

"Melpomaen," Erestor called, glaring at his husband angrily, "would you like to have a glass of mulled wine with us this evening? I do not want you to sit alone in your chamber on Yule Eve."

Melpomaen tried to shake his head, but as this would have sent at least two scrolls flying, he didn't.

"That is most generous of you, Master Erestor, but ... I was sort of invited... Lord Celeborn, you know..." he stuttered, and Erestor, alerted, cocked an eyebrow.

"Lord Celeborn has invited you, Melpomaen? Now that is very generous - who else will attend?"

"Oh - nobody, Master Erestor, just Lord Celeborn and I."

"Indeed - how... nice." Erestor said, glaring daggers at Fin who had his back to Melpomaen and rolled his eyes.

"Then I wish you a very nice evening, my friend."

"Thank you!" Melpomaen said, his smiling face hidden behind three heavy books, and he all but danced out of the door.

As soon as he had left, Erestor folded his arms over his chest.

"Fin - did you hear that?"

"Yes. Elrond has Pumpkin, and Celeborn has Fig," Glorfindel grinned, but Erestor was not in the mood for joking.

"Glorfindel! This is NOT funny! Melpomaen is young, and he is, in certain aspects of life, naïve and innocent. I will not allow Celeborn to - do whatever it is he intends to do!"

Fin sighed.

"I agree with you, dear - but what can we do? They are both old enough to make their own decisions, so what do you expect me to do? Tell Celeborn to keep his fingers off your apprentice?"

"No," Erestor said, swinging his legs out of the bed and grabbing for his robe, "this I will tell him myself."

And with that, he was out of the door quicker than Glorfindel could protest, Glorfunkle in tow, and Fin almost felt pity for the Lord of the Golden Wood.

Almost.

* * *

"I have an early Yule present for you," Orophin said upon entering the Healing House, and Elladan, who had turned around when he heard his husband's voice, stared at Eldanar, who clung to Orophin like ivy to a tree. Behind them followed Haldir and Mela, both looking concerned.

"Uh?" Elladan said, rather intelligently, and Orophin grinned.

"We have a guest for tonight, Elladan. But before we put this Elfling in the bath tub, I would like you to see if he is injured or has any bruises that need treatment."

Elladan nodded, deciding that there would be enough time to ask questions later, and Orophin carried the child over to the examination table. He tried to put Eldanar down, but the boy refused, clinging to Orophin's jerkin.

"Eldanar - this is Elladan, my husband. Remember? I have told you about him, he is a Half-elf, too. He is also a healer, and he wants to help you. I will not go anywhere, but you must let go now, and sit here on the table. Will you do that for me?"

Eldanar considered this a moment, then the curiosity to see another Half-elf overruled his fear, and he slipped out of Orophin's arms and sat down obediently on the table, staring at Elladan with big eyes.

"You have nice ears," he finally said, after inspecting Elladan's face, "not as nice as Orophin's ears, but they are nicer than mines. I have ugly ears," he added, and Elladan had a quick look at the two offending body parts.

"They look fine enough for me, penneth, despite the fact that one could grow carrots in them at the moment" he said, and winked at Eldanar, "and thank you for your compliments. Now - Eldanar, that is your name, correct?" The child nodded, and Elladan crouched down so he didn't tower above the boy.

"Now, Eldanar - as Orophin told you, I am a healer. Do you hurt anywhere? Did you fall or bump yourself?"

The boy shook his head, but allowed Elladan to peel him out of the rags. The healer frowned.

"When was the last time you ate anything, little one?" he asked, and Eldanar blushed.

"I do not know. Two or three days ago. It is difficult to find something in the forest with all the snow."

Elladan shook his head, listened to Eldanar's breathing and heartbeat, checked for bruises and scratches, and finally stroked the boy's head.

"From what I can tell, he is not hurt, Orophin. What he needs now is food and a bath, in exactly that order. Food in boy, boy in bath."

"Good. I will take him with me, my wife can prepare something to eat, we can bath him, and my oldest one's clothes should fit him, too," Mela said, and tried to pick up Eldanar, but the child shrieked and immediately clung to Orophin again.

"No! You said you would not send me away!" he whimpered, and began to cry again.

"There, there, little one, of course you can stay with us," Orophin said, hugging the child and kissing the dirty hair. He gave Mela and Haldir a sign, and the two turned to leave.

"I look forward to seeing you again tonight, Eldanar," Haldir said, and waved at the boy, and the Elfling smiled back through his tears.

When the door closed behind the two Elves, Orophin made Eldanar face him.

"I will tell you what we are going to do now, little one. I will bring you to our chambers, and while I do this, Elladan will get you a nice meal from the kitchen. Then you will eat, and the bath should be prepared in no time."

"With cake?" Eldanar asked hopefully, and Orophin nodded.

"Of course - it would not be a proper meal without cake."

With that, he wrapped Eldanar up in his cloak again and picked him up.

"I will get the food and see you later," Elladan said, and smiled at the child, "and I will get hot chocolate for all of us, too."

Eldanar snuggled up closer to Orophin, and whispered: "Your husband is very nice."

Orophin laughed.

"Yes, I know - that is why I married him!"

"Despite his small ears?" Eldanar asked, and Orophin grinned.

"Eldanar, in time you will learn that size does not matter," he said, "and the best things come in small packages, anyway."

"Now I heard that!" Elladan's voice could be heard from the Healing House, and though Eldanar did not understand why Orophin laughed in reply, he decided that he liked both Elves very much, and maybe, if he was really good, they would keep him.

He put his thumb in his mouth, buried his face in Orophin's hair and sighed happily.

* * *

Celeborn was draped lazily on his bed, reading one of Elrond's books from the Secret Library, when an unexpected visitor knocked on the door. He didn't bother to get up, assuming it was a servant with a message, so he just called "Come in!" and resumed his reading.

He immediately sat up when he saw that it was Master Erestor, followed by one of his feathered beasts.

"Erestor - what can I do for you? Are you well again?" he asked, surprised at this visit from Elrond's advisor. Not that he minded having beautiful Elves wearing little more than a light silk robe in his bedroom, but with Erestor, one never knew if Glorfindel wouldn't turn up any second, ready to break noses and necks.

"I am fine, thank you, my lord," Erestor said, "I shall return to my chambers immediately after you have told me what your intentions regarding Melpomaen are."

"Melpomaen?"

Celeborn cocked an eyebrow.

"I am most afraid that I do not know what you are talking about, Erestor."

Erestor looked at Celeborn, and the Lórien Elf felt as if those dark eyes saw directly into the bottom of his soul, and he shifted uncomfortably, for the bottom of his soul more resembled the bottom of a mirky old duck pond than that of a clear mountain lake.

"You do not - I am relieved to hear this, my lord. For if there had been any intentions regarding Melpomaen on your part, I would have been forced to make a very boring and tiring speech now about the possible consequences of any attempt to take advantage of a young, innocent and easily impressed Elf like Melpomaen. But I am glad to see such a speech will not be necessary."

'This,' Celeborn decided, 'is a really scary and possibly insane Elf', and he eyed the large carrion crow which had settled on Erestor's shoulder and was now glaring at him with suspicion, then he shook his head.

"Master Erestor - your concern does you all honour, though it is uncalled for. Melpomaen is hardly older than Estorel, I merely do not wish the young one to spend this evening alone, and I owe him some gratitude. There is nothing more to it."

Erestor, who had his suspicions about the origin of Melpomaen's and Celeborn's bruises but had not managed to get any further information out of the young Elf, nodded.

"I am delighted to hear this. It is so rare these days to meet an Elf in your position who is of such a heart-warming selflessness."

He batted his eye lashes and Celeborn, who saw the sarcasm literally dripping to the floor, decided not to get into an argument with Elrond's chief advisor, an Elf who was known for having a tongue as sharp as his twin knives, and just as deadly.

"Yes, they do not make Elves like me these days," Celeborn said, and sighed deeply, "so it is a delight to know that at least you appreciate my real worth, my dear Erestor. Be assured that no harm will befall your protégé in my presence, and that you will find him behind his desk the day after tomorrow in one piece, all fresh and healthy like a Shire peach."

Erestor bowed his head, and turned towards the door, where he halted for a moment, and gave Celeborn a sly smile.

"You know what Shire farmers do with naughty Hobbitlings who steal their fruits, my lord?"

With that, he was out of the door, and Celeborn wasn't quite sure what irritated him more: that Erestor had compared him with a Hobbit or that he had compared Melpomaen with a peach.

* * *

Eldanar sat on Orophin's lap and was thoroughly happy. The meal had been excellent, fruits, meat, bread, cheese, and a huge piece of chocolate cake which Elladan had snatched from the buffet for this evening at great risk for the chef had announced that he would personally cut the ears off anybody, be it servant, lord or king, who dared to lay a hand on the delicious foods before the celebrations had officially opened. Elladan had crawled under the long table, grabbed the cake and quickly escaped up the stairs before anybody noticed. The long years of practice in food-stealing as an Elfling now paid off.

The boy was wrapped in a large, fluffy towel after a long soak in the bath. He had admired the mosaic and the painted fishes, and had been relieved when no carrots had been found in his ears - he had been a little worried that they would have been served for dinner.

Mela had brought some of his eldest son’s clothing in the meantime, and currently, Orophin was trying to comb Eldanar's long hair, which was not an easy task; as there were mats which needed special attention, and the Elfling found it increasingly difficult to sit still.

"You have nice braids," he said, and shyly touched Elladan's hair. The dark tresses were already braided and ornamented for this evening's celebrations, and the beads and jewels fascinated the child.

"Thank you, Eldanar," Elladan smiled, and gently stroked the child's cheek. "What do you think - shall I braid your hair, too, once it is dry?"

"Oh! You would do this?" Eldanar said, getting all excited. "Can you make me braids like yours?"

"Now, that would be a bit difficult, little one, as your hair is not long enough yet, but I could make you the same braids Orophin wears now," Elladan said, and pointed at his husband's simple warrior braids.

Eldanar ran his hands over the braids, and smiled shyly. "Oh, I would love that! But only warriors have braids, and I am not a warrior..." he added, a little disappointed, but Elladan slapped his arm playfully.

"Not yet, you silly, but one day, you will be. So these will be 'Warrior In Waiting' braids, and I will also put some of Orophin's beads in them, so you will be the most handsome Elfling tonight."

Eldanar giggled.

"Thank you! You are very nice! And why do you have these beads? My nana said only girls wear beads."

Elladan swallowed down a rather uncharitable remark regarding Eldanar's nana, and explained instead that these specific colours were a sign that he was married.

Eldanar thought about it for a while, then he said: "So you and Orophin are married, and Haldir is your Elfling. You are a real family then, right?"

Orophin and Elladan exchanged a look, then Elladan said: "Yes, we are a family. And a very happy family, and we are happy that you are now here and part of this family."

The child flew out of Orophin's arms and into Elladan's, giving him a big wet kiss on the cheek. Elladan was more than a little embarrassed about this enthusiastic expression of emotion, so he cleared his throat and freed himself of the boy.

"Now, Eldanar - get into the clothes quickly so you will not catch a cold, and while you do so, I will get something for you."

With that, he disappeared into the next room, and Orophin heard him rummaging in his cupboard. Eldanar quickly slipped into the clothes, and Orophin was just about to fiddle with the lacings of the shirt when Elladan came back into the room, holding both hands hidden behind his back.

"Here is a present for you, Eldanar - tell me, which hand do you want?"

"Hmmmm..." Eldanar said, and his eyes wandered from Elladan's left side to his right.

"I take the left hand," he finally said, and he was very disappointed when the hand Elladan brought forward was empty.

"This was just a test, try again," he said, and this time, Eldanar chose the right hand.

"Congratulations! You just won a friend for life!" Elladan grinned, and gave the boy a stuffed toy in the form of a green dragon. It was obvious the cuddly toy had been played with a lot, for one eye was missing and the cloth on the right wing was already very thin, but Eldanar cheered as if he had just been given the biggest gift of his life, and who knows, maybe he had.

"This is Tathar," Elladan said, "he was my best friend when I was an Elfling, well, beside my brother Elrohir, and he will always look after you."

Eldanar danced around the room, laughing and hugging the toy, then he took the dragon's wing and waved at his two hosts.

"Say hello to Elladan and Orophin!" he cried, and both Elves waved back, big smiles on their faces at the sight of the laughing child.

"You once did not speak to Elrohir for three weeks because he had put a bonnet on your dragon's head, Elladan", Orophin said in a low voice.

"Indeed - it was a frilly bonnet, and it was pink, too! On my dragon! Tathar had nightmares for months!" Elladan snorted. Orophin put his arm around Elladan's waist and made him sit on his lap, ignoring the chair which protested under the additional weight of the large Elven warrior. He nuzzled his neck, then pressed a gentle kiss on Elladan's lips.

"These are the moments when I see what a treasure you really are, beloved," he murmured, and Elladan returned the kiss, running his hands through the long, silver blond hair.

"As I have been such a good Elf today, is there any chance I will get a reward tonight?" he said, and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively at his husband.

"Only if you wear the pink frilly bonnet during dinner," Orophin purred, and Elladan whacked him on the head. Orophin fought back by tickling his husband, and the following friendly scuffle was too much for the chair - it collapsed, sending the two Elves flying, and they landed on the ground in a giggling heap.

"Look, Tathar," Eldanar said to his dragon, "these are grown-ups, but they are very silly!"

Elladan laughed, placed a loud, wet kiss on Orophin's nose and giggled: "We cannot help it, Eldanar - we are Elves, we were born like this!"

A statement Tathar the dragon fully agreed with, but as he was a wise dragon, he did not comment.

* * *  
"You must be joking", Rúmil said, and stared first at his brother, then at the horse, and then at the Rohirrim.

"No, Sir, 't is all just like your brother said," the captain explained, "this is a present for you."

"But who would give me a horse?" Rúmil sighed, and patted the neck of the beautiful steed, who seemed to enjoy his new master's touch.

"Don't know, Sir. I just had orders to deliver the horse in time. Don't you want to try him? It's from the king's stables, Sir, best horses we have. It's not like we'd give them away to just anybody, you know," the captain said, a little bit irritated by the Elf's behaviour.

"Rúmil, stop being difficult. Somebody found you worthy of a horse, which is, I admit it, a surprise, for I would have given you a jackass to suit your follies. Be happy, have a ride and try not to break your neck in the process," Orophin said, and the Elves present snickered. Rúmil grumbled something, but then his curiosity got the better of him and he quickly mounted the horse.

"What are you waiting for?" Haldir asked, then he whispered something into the horse's ear, and immediately, the animal neighed and literally flew out of the stables, across the courtyard and down the street. Rúmil yelled something, but they didn't understand him as his words were drowned in laughter.

"An amazing animal," Mela said, and Orophin nodded.

"Yes - an amazing animal for an amazing Elf."

Celeborn stood on his balcony, saw Rúmil riding out of the stables and grinned.

"A very generous present, my dear," Galadriel said, and Celeborn almost jumped over the balustrade when he heard his wife's voice.

"For the Valar's sake, Galadriel - must you always sneak up like this?" he gasped.

"Yes, I must, for I greatly enjoy seeing you confused," she answered, and managed to see Rúmil disappearing into the forest.

He rolled his eyes.

"So you know," he said, and she nodded.

"Of course I do. And when will he know, Celeborn? Do you not think that he has a right to know where he comes from and who his father is?"

Celeborn turned around and looked at the Elves below who probably discussed Rúmil's mysterious present.

"As far as he is concerned, he does have a father already. Too many father's can ruin a family, and our family history is complicated enough the way it is."

Galadriel stepped closer, and put a hand on her former husband's arm.

"Why the horse then, Celeborn? Do you not think he will try to find out who sent it? And when he finds out - will he not wonder why you, of all Elves, made him such a valuable gift?"

Celeborn shrugged.

"Every boy should get his first horse from his father," he said.

"Celeborn - he is over five millennia old, your 'boy'."

"Why makes him a baby compared to me - and you," he smugly added, but she let it pass this time.

"And the horse was not that expensive, anyway."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Cards?" she asked.

"No. Dice." he replied.

Galadriel shook her head.

"Poor Eómer."

* * *  
Elrohir had retreated to the room closest to the Great Hall, shut the door and sat now in one of his father's favourite chairs, hidden from the eyes of the merry Elves, holding a glass of Miruvor and staring into the fire. They were all so happy - his father, his brother, Arwen and her king, the children, Erestor and Glorfindel... all he loved were happy, so what kind of Elf did it make him, that he sat there and was sad?

Elrond's youngest son sighed. He had hardly ever felt as superfluous as he did tonight, and when his wish for quiet and solitude had become overwhelming, he had left without saying good-bye, and nobody had even noticed. The wood in the fire crackled, and muffled laughter could be heard from the Great Hall. A pine cone burst in the fire, and Elrohir started.

"And again I find you sad, child. This is becoming a habit."

Elrohir quickly turned to look around, and of course, there he was, sitting in the next chair, stretched out lazily like a big cat, holding a glass of wine.

"I am not sad," the young Elf said with as much dignity as he could muster, "and I wish to be alone. Please respect this. I do not see why you are here tonight, surely you have some souls to collect somewhere?"

Námo smiled and took a sip of the wine, rolling the fluid around in his mouth before swallowing it.

"A lovely wine. Your father knows how to entertain his guests. But to answer your questions: I do not collect souls like your chef collects mushrooms, child. I call them, they follow, and some - well, some need to be shown the way. The young ones, the confused ones - and the stubborn ones."

"Like Orophin?" Elrohir asked, and Námo nodded.

"Yes - he was very stubborn. But in the end, they always follow my call, for this is nature's way. Our lives are circles, there is no beginning and no end. A highly philosophical matter which I will be delighted to discuss with you some other time, young one, but now I wish to know the reason for your sadness. I hope it is not my presence?"

The Vala looked at Elrohir with those unnerving, yet already familiar liquid black eyes, and for a second, Elrohir was terribly tempted to tell the Doomsman that, indeed, his sadness was all the Vala's fault, and, while he was at it, blame Námo for the political situation, bad harvest and lousy weather as well, but in the end, he only shrugged.

"Even if it was, there is not much I could do about it, now is there," Elrohir sighed, and lifted the glass to his lips again. "You can do whatever you want, and I have to live with it."

Námo shook his head, and Elrohir secretly admired how the long black hair cascaded over the Vala's back - like water, as if it had a life on its own.

"Even I have to follow rules, child. Nobody is free to do whatever comes into their minds. But if I felt that my presence truly annoyed you, I would not be here. I bring Death, child - not headaches."

For a while, the two sat in silence, and Elrohir was not that unhappy to have company, even if it was Death himself. Again, muffled laughter could be heard, then a clear, clinking sound, and he could hear Glorfindel talk. A speech - one of many. He could not hear the words, but his old tutor's voice was comforting, and he almost started when everybody clapped and cheered, and soon enough, the music began to play again, the voice of the minstrel carrying through the air like a silver bell.

"You have just missed an important announcement, young one," Námo said, then dipped his index finger in the wine and began to run the digit over the rim of the glass, producing a high, singing sound.

"Desert buffet is opened?" Elrohir asked.

"No, Erestor is expecting", Námo answered, and Elrohir finally smiled.

"This is good news," he said, "I will congratulate them later. I am glad these two are happy. I am glad everybody is happy."

"But you would be even more glad if you were happy, too," Námo stated, and after a moment of hesitation, Elrohir nodded.

"Elladan and I are twins - that is more than being brothers. We always knew each other's thoughts, even if we did not speak them out loud. Every so often, he would finish a sentence I began, or I would hand him the bread during lunch without him asking, just because I knew this was what he wanted. We never had any secrets, shared everything. And then came Orophin - yes, we are still close, but it is not the same."

Námo nodded, and waited for Elrohir to continue.

"Do not think that I have forgotten what you told me about houses and rooms. I do not want to take the first place in my family's hearts but... on Yule Eve, it would be nice to have - somebody," Elrohir continued, and he looked a little lost. Námo didn't answer, instead, he re-filled Elrohir's glass, and after another sip, the young Elf began to feel tired, his eyes glazed over, and before he could ask Námo what he was up to this time, he had fallen asleep.

 

~~~ Elrohir dreams ~~~

 

"This is my sword!" the Elfling said.

"No, it is mine!" the other, who looked almost identical replied, and tugged on the wooden sword.

"Mine!"

"No, mine!"

One barked, the other bit, the sword flew aside, and within seconds, the two boys were rolling around on the floor, tearing on braids and shouting at each other.

"Stop it, you two! No arguing on Yule Eve!" Elrohir said, and separated his sons by grabbing each of them by the collar.

"He started it!" one hissed, "No, he did!" the other cried, and Elrohir shook his head.

"One day, you two will be the death of me," he sighed, "your uncle Elladan and I never argued when we were little."

"That is not true"; one of the Elflings said, pouting, "Uncle Elladan told us that you always put a silly bonnet on his toy dragon."

Elrohir had to grin.

"That was millennia ago, penneth - it is no excuse for you two to behave like two drunken cave trolls."

Both boys looked at the floor and shuffled their feet.

"I am sorry, ada", the two said at almost the same moment, and Elrohir ran his hands over the boy's heads.

"It is already forgotten, little ones. And now clean up, or your great ada will give you a lecture about the proper behaviour of Elflings again."

His sons rolled their eyes, then they suddenly perked up and ran to the door, which opened and revealed a lean figure, wrapped in a heavy cloak, snowflakes melting on the cloth.

Elrohir's eyes lit up.

"Beloved!" he said, but before he could see the face of his mate, a pine cone cracked in the fire, and he woke up.

For a moment, Elrohir was confused, and it took him a while to leave fully the land of dreams and return to reality. The chair beside him was empty, a half-full glass of wine stood on the armrest, and from the Great Hall, music and laughter was heard.

Elrohir stared at the glass, then into the fire, and to his great amazement, all sadness and melancholy had left his heart. Instead, he felt all warm and cosy, and a smile played around his lips. He emptied his glass, then he got up to join the merry crowd again.

What a wonderful present he had been given - the best Yule present ever.

* * *

Fin carefully laid Erestor, who had giggled like an Elfling all the way from the Great Hall to their chambers, on the bed.

"I told you to stay clear of the Shire Brandy, dear," he said, but all he got from Erestor was another giggle.

He sighed, then he stepped through the door to the nursery, releasing the handmaid from her elfling-sitting duties, and once he had checked that Estorel slept peacefully, he tip-toed back to the bed chamber.

"This was a wonderful evening, Fin," Erestor sighed, and snuggled up to Glorfindel, nuzzling his ear.

"It was fine, beloved," his husband replied, but Erestor was not happy with this statement, and shook hi head.

"No! It was the bestest evening ever!" he insisted, and Fin, who was trying to peel him out of his clothes, nodded.

"Yes, darling, and now be a good advisor and let your husband get you naked."

Erestor purred.

"Hm, I like it when you do this," he said, and there was a wicked smile on his face.

"What?" Fin asked.

"Get me naked", Erestor said, and before Glorfindel could make another move, he found himself flipped onto his back and covered by one very horny Elf.

Erestor licked on his ear, placed small kisses and bites on his neck and made short work with his robes. One forceful tug, and the garment flew across the room.

"Dear me, Erestor," Glorfindel gasped, "maybe you really should drink more often!"

Erestor, who knew exactly where to touch to make his husband squirm, purred again. It was a deep, almost animal-like purr, and Fin knew that he was in for a rather adventurous night.

Their love-making was as wild as it was loving, and finally, Fin rested his head, exhausted, on Erestor's stomach, placing soft kisses along the scar which ran across it. Everything about Erestor was lean, controlled strength and iron will, but his stomach was soft, as if Estorel had left a soft pillow behind when he had left his sia's belly to be born. And now, again, a new life was growing inside Erestor, and Glorfindel found himself crying, which was really silly, but he couldn't help it.

"Fin? Fin, what happened?" Erestor asked, worried and very sober. "Have I hurt you? I really did not intend to, but I got a little carried away, and..:"

"Shhh, no, everything is fine, beloved," Fin said, and ran his fingers tenderly over Erestor's belly.

"I just thought - well, that our new Elfling is in there, and got a bit tearful, I am afraid."

Erestor stroked Glorfindel's hair, and smiled.

"It is a miracle, is it not? I feel so happy, so light - and so loved," he added, and Fin almost felt the warm wave of love which radiated from Erestor, and he moved up to face him. He hugged Erestor close to him, tucked his head under his chin and stroked his back.

"You are the miracle. And just so you know, there will be no running-into-the-woods this time, no visiting Mandos, no meeting old relatives of mine, no matter how dear to me they are. You will have this Elfling here, under Elrond's eyes. Will you promise me this?"

Erestor nodded.

"I promise."

"And no biting, either!" Glorfindel added.

"Awww... you do not want me to have any fun with this birth, Fin. It was not too bad..."

Fin howled.

"'Not too bad?' As in 'Sauron is not a bad guy?' It was a deep wound which needed 16 stitches!"

"It was a small wound, and it only took 8! And anyway: when Bramble was born, Rabbit broke Haldir's arm and his collar bone, so I should think you have no reason to complain!" Erestor sniffed, and Glorfindel groaned.

"Do not bring Rabbit into this, darling: he is a full Plains Elf, he has every right to maul his husband."

"I can be wild, too", Erestor grumbled.

"Yes, but not that wild. I have seen Rabbit licking Haldir dry after a swim in the river. You certainly never did that."

Erestor looked up, and grinned.

"You would like that," he purred, and Fin’s breathing increased at this prospect.

"I will take you up on that offer, darling," he said in a husky voice.

"Very well," Erestor replied, and yawned, "I will ask Rabbit tomorrow to groom you."

And seeing his husband's terrified face, he added: "And while he is at it, he might as well introduce you to the delights of raw crayfish."

With that, Erestor fell asleep, and unlike Glorfindel, he had a very happy smile on his face.

* * *  
Melpomaen was already on his fifth glass of mulled Miruvor, and as a consequence, he had given up trying to follow Celeborn's tale quite a while ago. His head was spinning, but in a most pleasant way. What an amazing Yule Eve this had been! Not sitting alone in his chamber and getting melancholic, not attending Lord Elrond's family celebration and feeling like a fifth wheel, either, but sitting here with Lord Celeborn, listening to amazing tales of old, and being a welcome guest rather than a necessary burden.

The young advisor felt great all around. He was warm, he was comfortable, and he was enjoying the company. Oh yes, he was enjoying the company greatly. Lord Celeborn could have read Master Erestor's inventory list of the library, and Melpomaen would have sat there with equal delight, for it was less what Celeborn was saying than that he was saying it. Ai, what a voice! And what an Elf to go with it! If only Celeborn hadn't been Celeborn but somebody else, one of the stable hands, for example, or another advisor, then Melpomaen could have - no. Even then, he wouldn't have. The young elf sighed, knowing himself all too well. His idea of courting was standing in a corner, hoping not to be noticed and gazing longingly at the object of his affections. The few occasions when Melpomaen had actually gotten into the situation of talking to an Elf he had feelings for, he had ended up showering the poor soul in a flood of nonsense words and silly gossip, just to hide his nervousness. Needless to say, things had never developed any further than this.

But for once, he could at least watch without getting into trouble. Melpomaen released a happy sigh, and took another sip of his wine.

Celeborn had noticed well the smile on the young Elf's face. Melpomaen, much to his surprise, had been excellent company. Celeborn had offered to spend Yule Eve with him because he had been grateful for Melpomaen's help, had been impressed, even, and yes, he had felt pity for him. Later, he had regretted the invitation, especially after Erestor's sharp words, but after an initial moment of awkwardness, they had soon engaged in a lively discussion. Yes, it was true: Melpomaen did talk a lot, and he knew every gossip in town, but Celeborn noted well that none of the little stories the young Elf told were vile or hurtful. Embarrassing at times, yes - but there was not one bad word about anyone, and Celeborn began to understand what diplomatic potential Erestor had seen in Melpomaen.

He was also fascinated to see how original Melpomaen's thinking really was. His pet-project - a school for all Elflings, no more home-education - was revolutionary. Children were educated at home, by their parents or, if they could afford one, a tutor.

"What would be the benefit, Melpomaen?" Celeborn asked.

The young advisor, cheeks flushed with excitement over the fact that Lord Celeborn seemed to be interested in his ideas, had sat up and explained with many gestures.

"See, my lord - what makes our society strong is the experience of many, not of only one. If we had a school, where all children were educated together by a variety of tutors, they could profit from all that experience, not only from that of their fathers. You might say: what good does it do the child of a border guard to learn about slaying Balrogs, and how could it profit the child of a lord to learn how to mend his clothes? And I would say: because the child of a border guard might one day come to face a Balrog, and the young lord could find himself in a situation where he has to look after himself, with nobody there to wait on him. And if the young lord knows the work of the border guards, he will value it higher. In Lothlórien, the noble Elves do not always show the guards the respect they deserve."

This had slipped out without intention, and Melpomaen quickly apologized. If he'd had the ability, he would have kicked himself.

"I am most sorry, my lord! I really did not mean to insult you! I..." he stammered, but Celeborn cut him off with a smile.

"Do not apologize for telling the truth, young one. I know well what my lords - the lady Galadriel's lords are like. Your approach unusual approach, but has a point."

From daily life in Rivendell, the discussion had moved on to life in Lothlórien, where Melpomaen had only been once, to attend his sister's wedding. Soon, Celeborn was talking about the times of old, of horrible beasts and heroic warriors, and Melpomaen hardly dared to breathe for fear of interrupting the tale.

Celeborn looked at the young Elf in front of him, and had to smile. Such sweetness - he was obviously a little drunk, a charming flush had spread over his face, and it was a pretty face, the lord had to admit. Not outstanding beauty, but pretty nevertheless, fine features, and large, brown eyes. The bruise on Melpomaen's face had faded to a faint green-yellow, and the scratches were healing. Still, Celeborn was angry - such an incident should never have happened within the borders of Rivendell, and it had basically been his fault. He frowned.

Melpomaen, who had realised the lord had stopped talking and had seen his frown, quickly sat up, swaying a little.

"My lord - have I done anything to upset you?" he asked, rubbing his knees nervously.

Celeborn looked up, surprised.

"Upset me? You? But no, penneth! How did you come to think such a thing?"

Melpomaen blushed, which Celeborn found most endearing, and he brushed a strand of hair behind his ear.

"I saw you looking at me, then you frowned - so I thought I might have done something wrong. My apologies - I am enjoying this evening greatly. And you are the last person I would ever want to upset, my lord. I admire you greatly, and... and..."

Celeborn couldn't help but smile. And because he really had enjoyed the evening, because he was on his 8th glass of wine and because old habits are hard to break, he leant forward and kissed Melpomaen, who went cross-eyed trying to look at Celeborn.

This was nice, Celeborn decided. Soft, warm lips, and his kiss was returned, yet the response was unskilled, and the young Elf trembled. They broke off; Celeborn leant back, and looked at Melpomaen, a smug smile on his face. Oh yes - his charms were still working.

Melpomaen was thunder-struck. He had had more than one thought about the lord which he deemed "inappropriate", and never, ever had he expected - this. His lips were tingling, and he quickly reached up to touch them. What was he supposed to do now? Had he encouraged this? Surely, he must have - why else would the other Elf have done this? Ai Elbereth - what impression would he leave now! Surely the lord must think him to be him a... there wasn't even a suitable word for this! The young Elf only wished for a mouse hole to hide in.

Celeborn had watched with a mixture of amusement and surprise how the young Elf had reacted to the kiss. It would be so easy. He had done it a thousand times before. A bit of wine, smooth words, a touch here, a kiss there, and this little Elf here would be a most charming companion for this night.

And heartbroken the next day.

Celeborn sighed. He reached out to Melpomaen and drew the young, shivering Elf into a comforting embrace and pressed an almost chaste kiss on the soft brown hair.

"Shhh, penneth, no need to get upset. You have done nothing wrong."

Melpomaen said nothing, his head was spinning - from the wine or the kiss, he couldn't tell - but after a while, Celeborn's voice calmed him, and soon, his head rested on the lord's shoulder and the young advisor was fast asleep. Celeborn softly, softly laid Melpomaen down on the sheep skin in front of the fire and covered him with his bed cover. Once he was sure that the young Elf was still sleeping, he left the room without a sound, and headed for the woods - he had hardly ever been more in need of fresh air than now.

On the way out, he passed a mirror, and stopped to look at himself.

"Celeborn, you have been very good and very noble tonight," he said.

Then he left the Last Homely House, and muttered to himself: "You idiot!"

* * *

Elrond slept, but for Gil, dreams would not come this night. It had been a wonderful evening; he could not remember ever having experienced such a Yule Eve celebration, he had been welcomed into the family with open arms and a kick on the shin, courtesy of Celeborn, who insisted that this was an old Lórien family tradition.

The evening had found its satisfying conclusion in some slow, delightful love making, and so there really was nothing left he could wish for: he was alive, he was loved, and he was safe.

And yet, there was something missing.

The former High King stepped out onto the balcony, ignoring the cold, and stared up into the starlit night sky. A beautiful sight - no candles or chandeliers could ever replace this. Out of old habit, he began to count the stars. He always found counting oddly comforting and calming, and more than once he had attracted worried glances on the battle field when he had counted helmets or shields or horses - it kept him calm, and helped him to focus.

2, 3, 7, 12, 18, 19, 20 - 21 stars he saw. Why was this so odd? Why of any importance?

"I beg you, in the name of our friendship: let me go."

Amaris - these had been Amaris' words before he left for Mirkwood. It had been the day Gil-galad noticed for the first time that there were golden speckles in Amaris' eyes.

"21 golden speckles - how come I never noticed?" Gil murmured, and a great sadness filled his heart, so he shook his head over his own folly, stepped back into the chamber and slipped under the covers.

And while he hugged Elrond close to him, many, many days away, a lonely figure sat in a tree in Mirkwood and gazed at the radiant stars.

"Merry Yule, beloved," Amaris whispered, "and may the new year be full of bliss for you."

Then he slipped down from his tree and returned through the silent forest to the palace.

"I wish you the same," Gil-galad murmured, then he fell asleep.

* * *  
The End


End file.
